


this quintessence of dust

by viciousmollymaukery



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anxiety Attacks, Asexual Essek Thelyss, Autistic Caleb Widogast, Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Dark Academia Vibes, Disabled Essek Thelyss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gratuitous Use of Astrophysics Concepts, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cigarette Use, Infodumping, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Scarification, Service Cat Frumpkin, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Toxic Family Dynamics, Trans Essek Thelyss, alcohol use, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28106748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viciousmollymaukery/pseuds/viciousmollymaukery
Summary: The elevator dings and they both step out onto the ninth floor. Essek lets Widogast take the lead and follows him down the hallway, taking note of the twists and turns to follow them back on his own later if need be. Widogast pulls his key out from his pocket, fumbling with the card reader a few times before the light on it flashes green.“Well, here we are,” he says, holding the door open with a smile.Essek inclines his head politely and steps inside of what is to be their shared space for the duration of the conference. The room is fairly well furnished, for what he’d been able to afford. There’s a small kitchenette area with a microwave, tiny fridge and freezer, and coffee maker, as well as two plush chairs set in front of a glass coffee table. The curtains are currently pulled back, revealing the city of Uthodurn beneath them, snow sparkling in the setting sun. There’s even a modestly sized desk along one wall, next to most of Essek’s belongings that had been sent ahead—his wheelchair is folded up to rest against the chest of drawers, and his other two bags are sitting on the floor next to it.And, as becomes painfully obviously once his gaze pans farther back, there’s only one bed in the room.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 52
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, I'm back with the dark academia-esque Shadowgast fic I've been planning for a while that we all deserve, now that my own academic semester is over and I have some free time to start editing and posting. With regards to tagging, I'll update as I go for warning and additional applicable information, but for the sake of spoilers I won't have everything up there just yet. As always, if I missed something that you think should be added, feel free to let me know.
> 
> I'll also say that I use some astrophysics/cosmology terms here that, in hindsight, people are maybe not super familiar with. I'll give explanations for stuff in the notes at the end of the chapter, but do feel free to ask me (read: please ask me so I can infodump) if there's something you're not sure about.
> 
> Also, other than that one shadowgast/beauyasha/fjorester one-shot I wrote, this is my first real attempt at writing CR stuff in a modern setting. I don't follow canon events exactly, and not everything has a perfect in-universe equivalent, so be aware if you're a stickler for that kind of thing. Canon is a buffet restaurant and I am but a rambunctious toddler. 
> 
> Mild content warnings in this chapter for alcohol use, and mentions of medication/prescription drugs.
> 
> And, with that, enjoy! :)

Uthodurn was frigid. The sprawling, spiraling metropolis had only kept expanding over the years, spilling up onto the snowy surface of the Flotket Alps as well as diving deeper downwards into them. Much of the snowy city now cascaded down the mountainside, buildings and roads at odd, awkward angles designed to maintain the double helix structure that reflected its citizens’ way of life almost ironically. Were it not so awfully inconvenient for him, and if he did not have such disdain for the field in question, Essek could almost consider it a remarkable feat of engineering.

But alas, after trying to find the venue where this year’s annual conference was supposed to be held for nearly an hour, he was wondering whether the host city had only made it accessible through navigating by the stars themselves. He finds himself leaning on his cane more and more with the setting of the sun, and wishes not for the first time that he’d opted to be driven from the airport after all, but the Bright Queen had given the research he performed at the Marble Tomes a shoestring budget and a tighter leash and was still somehow expecting him to weave the strings of fate with them both.

At least he’d have the last laugh in the end, even if it was only to himself.

Finally, approximately ninety minutes after starting what should have been a ten minute walk at most, Essek staggers through the entrance of the upscale hotel known only as the Samliel where the attendees were supposed to be staying, the bell over the door jingling almost mockingly at his exhausted arrival. He shakes the snow out of his hair and kicks it off of his boots before striding over towards the front desk, catching the eye of the dark-skinned, white haired woman currently chatting with one of the other guests.

At a moment’s glance, he’s forced to admit that the hotel itself _is_ rather elegant. A gold and crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a warm light over the similarly colored tapestries on the walls. There’s a window along the south of the building that goes from the floor to the rafters beyond and provides a lovely view of the city tumbling down below, in front of which sit several plush chairs and a fireplace in the corner. Altogether, it’s more than what Essek had been expecting, but he’ll save his real judgment for when he’s able to unwind in his room.

The receptionist half-skips, half-glides over to him with a perky smile on her face. “Hi! I’m Reani, welcome to the Samliel. Do you have a reservation with us this evening?”

“I do,” Essek says, removing his wallet and necessary paperwork from his pocket. “It should be under a ‘Doctor Thelyss.’ I’m here for the conference this week. I believe some of my belongings should already be waiting for me?” He’d been able to make those arrangements, at the very least.

Reani squints at her screen for a few moments before her grin returns. “Yep! Sure looks like it.”

“Excellent,” he sighs, already dreaming of taking a warm bath and drinking several glasses of wine as he hands her his personal credit card; he would have to send in the reimbursement request forms once he returned to the Dynasty, and cross his fingers that they were accepted.

She swipes the card and types on her keyboard, the halo around her head pulsing gently with light. There’s a chime from her computer and her expression freezes in place before falling slightly. She types for a few moments longer before the same sound rings out.

Essek sighs internally, drumming his fingers on the handle of his cane. “Is there a problem?”

“Ummmmmmmm...” Reani purses her lips. “Looks like there’s a bit of a clerical error here, hold on juuuuust a second…” She keeps typing and the sound keeps beeping, until it’s obvious she’s entering the same command over and over repeatedly in the desperate hope that it will work.

He clears his throat. “If it’s an issue of—”

The sound of quickly approaching footsteps from behind cuts Essek off, and he turns to see a similarly bedraggled figure emerging from the elevators, wearing a coat that is mostly patchwork and a long scarf that trails down almost to the marble floor. “Reani,” he says in a lightly accented voice, “I am, ah, terribly sorry to interrupt, but I believe someone else’s bags may have been sent to my room by mistake?”

Reani looks up and blinks at him for a few seconds, then looks back at Essek, then back at him. When it’s clear she’s not going to speak up, Essek turns to the man with a perfectly curated apologetic smile on his face.

“Yes, based on the circumstance, I believe those would be mine,” he laughs lightly. “Sorry for the inconvenience, I can bring them to my own room as soon as this is settled.”

The other man—Essek is _sure_ he recognizes him, but can’t place his face—smiles and nods, pulling a hand through the strands of long, red hair that have fallen out from his ponytail. “ _Ja, v_ ery well. I’d, uh, I’d be happy to help if you need me to.”

Reani coughs then. “Um, well—you see, here’s the thing. That—that kind of _is_ your room?”

“Oh.” Essek blinks.

“Oh,” the other guest—does his first name start with a C? Or maybe a K?—echoes. “Erm, well, if it’s my mistake then I can certainly clear out—”

“No no no, um… it—it looks like it’s your room as well.” Reani turns her computer monitor around to show the reservation details, and they both lean in to read them. Sure enough, the name ‘Essek Thelyss’ is listed alongside a ‘Caleb Widogast’.

Well, at least he has the mystery man’s name, if not a proper hotel reservation.

Essek sighs externally this time, resisting the urge to collapse onto the pristine floor from exhaustion right then and there. “Well, could you move one of us to a different room, then?” He knows he should really say ‘please’ or perhaps offer to pay whatever relocation or cancellation fees may be in order, but his nerves are past worn and he’s been running on empty for far too long now.

“I—I’m so sorry, um...” She starts frantically typing again and shaking her head. “Between the conference and the holiday season, we’re all booked up for the entire week, and so is everywhere else in the city. I could see if there’s maybe an opening at our sister location, but, well, that’s all the way in Uraliss.”

Essek says nothing, any witty retort or suggestion falling flat on his tongue as reality sinks in, and it takes Widogast clearing his throat to break the growing uncomfortable silence.

“Well,” he says lightly, “I’ve, um, I’ve certainly stayed in worse conditions. I’m sure we can find a way to make it work.”

“I suppose so,” Essek replies dryly, trying not to sound like he’s grumbling. Having to share his space with someone who is effectively a stranger is certainly not going to grant him the reprieve he desperately needs this evening, and it would certainly be an added stress for the entire upcoming week.

“Again, I am _so_ sorry,” Reani says, at least having the decency to seem genuine about it. “This is—I swear I don’t even know how this _happened_ —”

“It’s fine,” Essek interrupts, wanting to end the conversation and get on with this dreadful affair as soon as possible. “Thank you very much for your help.”

He lifts his carry on bag up over his shoulder and takes the room key and his credit card back from her, tucking both into his pocket before following Widogast back over to the elevators, the tap of his cane echoing across the polished marble. His apparent roommate twists his hands a bit before letting them fall, in a motion Essek recognizes all too well as considering offering to help him but thinking better of it.

They pass the first few floors of the elevator ride in silence before Widogast clears his throat again. “For what it’s worth, the room itself is nice, from what I saw of it before realizing I may have made a mistake and frantically racing back to reception,” he chuckles, shifting his own backpack on his shoulder.

“That’s good to know,” Essek says as politely as he can muster, glancing up at the human and studying him carefully. He notices a shifting under the scarf and sees a small, furry head peak up out of it, yawning hugely before slowly blinking at him. Essek’s own eyes go wide, this being the last thing he expected to see in this circumstance.

“Oh! Sorry, I—I should have said something earlier. This is Frumpkin.” Widogast pulls the animal—a cat, Essek realizes—out of his scarf. He’s a fluffy orange color, wearing a warm looking vest with the words _‘SERVICE ANIMAL, DO NOT DISTRACT’_ emblazoned in Common on the back. “He’ll, ah, be staying with us if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfectly alright,” he says. The presence of the cat is another variable to account for, but realistically it’s the least of his concerns at this moment.

Essek recognizes the name ‘Widogast’ now that he’s had a moment to think about it. He’s seen the surname on the author list of a few recent papers on Cepheid variables and an impressive proposition for a new, improved universal system of stellar magnitude—something he would be personally grateful for, because the current one used in the Dynasty was dated and atrocious and nowhere near objective. He files away the information for potential conversation topics to fill the inevitable awkward silences this evening was bound to bring.

The elevator _dings_ and they both step out onto the ninth floor. Essek lets Widogast take the lead and follows him down the hallway, taking note of the twists and turns to follow them back on his own later if need be. Widogast pulls his key out from his pocket, fumbling with the card reader a few times before the light on it flashes green.

“Well, here we are,” he says, holding the door open with a smile.

Essek inclines his head politely and steps inside of what is to be their shared space for the duration of the conference. The room is fairly well furnished, for what he’d been able to afford. There’s a small kitchenette area with a microwave, tiny fridge and freezer, and coffee maker, as well as two plush chairs set in front of a glass coffee table. The curtains are currently pulled back, revealing the city of Uthodurn beneath them, snow sparkling in the setting sun. There’s even a modestly sized desk along one wall, next to most of Essek’s belongings that had been sent ahead—his wheelchair is folded up to rest against the chest of drawers, and his other two bags are sitting on the floor next to it.

And, as becomes painfully obviously once his gaze pans farther back, there’s only one bed in the room.

Essek’s heart jumps up into his throat, but he schools his face into a neutral expression as he hears the door creak shut and Widogast walking towards him. He sets down his cat, who immediately begins sniffing around the room, before doing a similar cursory glance as Essek and blinking a bit at the same sight that had set him on edge as well.

“Ah,” Widogast sighs delicately. “Well, I’m, uh, I’m sure we can figure out some sort of sleeping arrangement.”

“Right,” Essek manages, internally cursing himself for not thinking to ask Reani more about the room, then her for not thinking to _say_ anything about it. He doesn’t technically require as much sleep as his human counterpart, but between the strict schedule of the conference and his own personal itinerary, there’s bound to be at least a four hour overlap where they’ll be forced to sleep at the same time. Not to mention, he found that most forms of physical intimacy ranged from generally unappealing to outright repulsive. He wasn’t quite sure where having to sleep in the same bed as someone he’d never met before would fall on that spectrum.

Widogast, to his credit, seems fairly nonplussed about the situation—perhaps he hadn’t been exaggerating when he spoke of having been in worse conditions—and busies himself with unpacking his clothes from his small, worn backpack into the dresser. “Oh, um, did you have a preference for drawers?” He asks, pausing and looking back over his shoulder to where Essek is still standing.

Essek shakes himself, stepping the rest of the way into the room and setting his own bag down next to one of the chairs. “No, whatever is fine.”

He removes his ancient, Marble Tomes-issued laptop from its sleeve and plugs it into the wall, largely so he can stay on the other side of the room and avoid any further interaction for now. The fans _whir_ as he turns it on, sitting down to check some emails and go over the drafts of the presentation he’s supposed to give and the accompanying paper. The final round of revisions from the Clovis Concord Journal of Cosmology had arrived at last, and he was curious to see how the review panel would decide to rip into his work this time around.

Essek ends up midway through rewriting his entire abstract at the behest of reviewer number three when he hears Widogast clear his throat from somewhere next to him, and he looks up.

“Uh, sorry to disturb you,” Widogast says apologetically, “but I was going to call up for some dinner, and I was curious if you wanted anything…?” He fiddles with the menu in his fingers for a moment before seeming to remember it exists and holding it out to Essek.

“Oh.” Essek takes the menu from him and looks it over, mentally striking through the dishes and drinks that would interact poorly with his medications, and weighing the reward now against the regret later if he did indulge himself for one night after all. “Well, something of the ethanol variety would be nice,” he sighs, earning a small laugh from his companion. “Let’s see… um, maybe just the salad, with some red wine?” He reaches back into his pocket and pulls out his card, handing it and the menu back to Widogast.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine with paying. Everything I spend here is on the Empire’s dime, so to speak. Well, technically the Cobalt Soul’s these days—”

“Please, just take it, it’s really no bother,” Essek interrupts, practically pushing the card into Widogast’s hands—which are surprisingly warm when they brush against his fingertips. “Honestly, they should really include room service with the price they’re charging anyway,” he mutters.

“I—well, okay then,” Widogast relents. “Do you want any dessert? My, uh, my friend says that the cupcakes in this city are ‘to absolutely _die_ for.’”

Essek inhales, intending to decline, but pauses and considers for a moment. “Sure,” he says at last, “why not?” He’s entitled to something sugary and unhealthy after the day he’s had.

Widogast beams. “Great! Well, then, dessert at least is on me.”

He picks up the phone to begin placing their orders, and Essek returns to his work, moving on to rewrite the captions for figures four and seven. He’s faintly aware of Widogast sitting down in the other chair, typing away on his own computer and seeming equally lost in thought. The silence is not as awkward as he was anticipating, and he finds he’s in the presence of a similar mind who also enjoys being lost in work. It ends up feeling surprisingly comforting, rather than uncomfortable.

Essek is just finishing up correcting a handful of formatting errors some time later when there’s a knock at the door. Widogast looks up and rises from his chair, sending Frumpkin jumping down to the carpet below. “That’ll be dinner.”

“Hm.” Essek sets his computer aside and stretches, feeling his joints pull and pop painfully. He winces as he carefully lowers his arms back down, realizing with a scowl that his evening plans of taking the longest bath of his life before bed were probably dashed in wake of his unexpected company.

Widogast returns, rolling their plates in on a decorative cart that probably cost more than the yearly budget Essek got towards his research. They divvy up their dishes and sit on opposite sides of the small table in the kitchen area, eating in silence for a while. Essek watches as his companion carefully picks the beans out of his soup, noting the habit distantly but not casting any judgment upon it.

Essek clears his throat after a while, achingly curious to learn more about the person he’s stuck with for the next several days. “So, are you presenting this year?” He tries to keep his voice light and friendly, and probably fails miserably.

Widogast finishes drinking from his beer stein before speaking. “Ah, no, unfortunately. I do have a poster in the session on day three, but I’m not speaking this time around. Are you?”

He nods, adjusting his grip on his fork, longing for the familiar weight of the chopsticks he often uses to eat with back home. “I’m scheduled for the public panel on high energy astrophysics the morning of day two, and I’m supposed to present some of my own work on simulations of gravitational waves from intermediate mass black holes the final afternoon.”

Widogast’s face lights up with interest. “I wasn’t aware the Kryn Dynasty conducted research into the intermediate mass ones. I thought their focus was more practical than theoretical.”

They _don’t_ conduct such research, hence his need for… _alternative_ sources of knowledge. But, well, Widogast doesn’t need to know that.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s how to be persuasive in a grant request. And,” he adds with a smile, because he just can’t resist, “the line between ‘practical’ and ‘theoretical’ in that regard is a bit more blurred than you might think.”

Widogast’s eyes narrow at him before widening in understanding. His jaw drops slightly open as the revelation fully hits him. “You—you didn’t actually…?”

Essek simply half-smiles and shrugs in response, holding his gaze to seem as aloof as he could.

“Do they really exist?” Widogast shifts forward in his chair, food forgotten, face filled with fascination. “I—I can’t believe it.”

“Here, hold on.” Essek stands painfully and shuffles through his bag, finding the first draft of his initial findings. The writing itself wasn’t very good—he’d typed it after his second all-nighter in a row, staying awake so as to not squander a single second of instrument time—but the findings themselves were indisputable. Even the review panel had known that much.

Widogast takes it from him eagerly, speed-reading through it at a pace that even Essek finds impressive. His smile only grows as he finishes the relatively short document and looks back up at Essek. “You are _amazing_ ,” he breathes. “This—” he holds up the paper in his hands— “does not happen very often.”

Essek laughs a bit, unsure how to deal with the praise that would never come from any of his own peers or superiors or even relatives, and takes a long sip from his wineglass to cover his awkwardness. “Well, I appreciate the excitement,” he says once he’s swallowed. “Honestly, I wish my compatriots shared half of your enthusiasm.”

Widogast looks a bit bewildered at that. “What do you mean? Is your department fairly small, or…?”

He chuckles. “’Fairly small’ is an understatement, but it’s not just that. I’m not sure how much you know about the Dynasty itself, but it’s… somewhere between a monarchy and a theocracy. There’s very little emphasis put into the sciences or efforts to actually _understand_ these things that supposedly control the world around us. They’d rather just call it a deity and be done with it.”

Essek tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice, he really does. He’s well aware that he’s talking to a member of what is technically an enemy country, but he could not care less for the political nuances his position inflicted upon him, and the prospect of having a similar mind to air some of his grievances to is a welcome one.

Thankfully, Widogast seems to understand his plight, and nods sympathetically once Essek finishes his miniature tirade. “I can see how that’s frustrating to deal with. I—forgive me, you’re referring in part to the Beacons, yes?”

“I am,” Essek replies, a bit surprised that someone from the Dwendalian Empire would be so knowledgeable about his nation’s secrets, but the well of information in his brain has already started spilling of its own volition. “They’re the source of a very unique, particular energy signature that bears an uncanny similarity to the cosmic microwave background radiation. There is _so_ much untapped potential within them and we’ve only just been able to begin scratching the surface. Where did we come from? Where are we going? Why are the laws that govern the universe the way they are, rather than something else? Why is there _something_ rather than _nothing_ in the first place? And why is that _something_ the way it is right now? They could hold all the answers within them, all the secrets of the origins and fate of the universe, just waiting to be discovered.”

And most of them, instead of being studied, are locked away in the hands of a few dull, boorish priests who neither appreciate nor understand the knowledge that could be gained from them—but he doesn’t say that part. Not here, not now. Not ever.

“But, anyway, enough about me,” Essek finishes, reaching for one of the two cupcakes that had been sent up and peeling off the paper wrapper. “What about you? Your interest lies in patterns of stellar evolution, yes? Supernovae and the like?” He asks, recalling the information he currently has on file from before.

Widogast _hmms_ in affirmation around a bite of his own cupcake before he swallows it. “Yes. The way these pieces of the universe change and grow with time, their cycles of death and rebirth, it—it has always fascinated me. But I am a big learner—much like yourself, if I might say.” He smiles, and Essek finds himself genuinely returning it.

“You would be correct.” Essek takes a bite of the cupcake, surprised a bit at the pleasant flavor and texture that fills his mouth as he chews, wondering distantly what types of tea it might go well with.

“I assumed as much,” Widogast continues, reaching down for a moment to pet Frumpkin. “One thing I’ve been studying on the side is the nature of time and the fourth dimension as a whole, especiallyas it pertains to wormhole theory—how do they form, is it possible to stabilize them, that sort of thing. I’ve been trying to create models as best I can, but it’s not like I have any observational data to work with. It ends up coming down to the math more often than not.”

“That’s a fairly niche area of interest,” Essek remarks, his interest now piqued and his cupcake now forgotten. “Have you been working on this for a while?”

Something flickers over Widogast’s face, something Essek doesn’t know him well enough to identify yet, but he notices it all the same. “Uh, sort of.” He takes a deep breath. “I was in an accelerated program of sorts during my youth, but, um… well, it didn’t work out for me and I ended up dropping out. I was in a… a dark place, so to speak, for a while after that. I’ve only really been able to get back into the field in the past few years, but I only started making any serious progress over the past couple of months.” He shrugs and gives that sheepish half-smile again. “It turns out a decent support system can do wonders.”

Essek smiles again. “So I’ve heard,” he replies, keeping one eye on Frumpkin as the cat trots over and curiously sniffs his leg, still sore from his traipse through the streets of Uthodurn. “Due to lack of funding, trust, and general interest, I typically end up working alone.” He sighs and reaches down to scratch Frumpkin behind one ear as he feels for the first time the true weight of his loneliness, now that he’s spoken it out loud for the first time in perhaps his entire life. “In truth, if it weren’t for the Beacons themselves, I might go somewhere else. I’ve actually been considering a sabbatical for some time now.”

That was partially a lie. Essek hadn’t _seriously_ considered it until he’d actually said it, but now it sounds like an offer he can’t refuse—and he had his fair share of experience with those. He was well aware of the burnout that comes with his line of work, and there had been many times when the pressure of having to constantly outdo himself started to get overwhelming. Everyone seemed to be demanding the next record-breaking achievement or big new discovery, but his biggest fear was that he already had nothing left to give and he was doomed to live out the remainder of his life in obscurity as an empty husk.

There’s a brief pause as Widogast finishes the last bite of his cupcake. “Well,” he says eventually, interrupting Essek’s existential spiral, “if you do decide to take one, let me know. It would be a pleasure to work with you, even if it’s only for a semester or two.”

Essek laughs bitterly, finishing his wine before speaking again. “I appreciate the offer, truly, but I don’t think the Empire would welcome me sticking my nose in their secrets.” The tensions between their nations were at an historic high—travel restrictions, border skirmishes, xenophobic hostilities and propaganda being hurled every which way.

But, well, that’s at least partly his own fault this time around, isn’t it? How poetic.

Widogast looks at him sympathetically. “Well, for what it’s worth, my—my group and I do a majority of our work through the Cobalt Soul nowadays, which isn’t strictly an _Empire_ institution, exactly. My friend Beauregard is an Expositor with them, so we could easily arrange something. But, I understand if it would be too uncomfortable.”

“Hm. I didn’t know the Soul was funding astronomical research these days,” Essek muses. Frumpkin rubs against his leg, purring. “I would think the Cerberus Assembly would be the go-to for that sort of thing.” They’d certainly been _his_ go-to, after all.

Widogast clears his throat. “They have a variety of interests. So long as I can convince them my interests are aligned with theirs, the grant money keeps rolling in and the archive access continues,” he says, eyes twinkling mischievously.

“I _see_ ,” Essek grins. “That’s very clever of you, Mister Widogast.”

“Ah—please, call me Caleb.”

“Caleb,” he amends. “Then, you can call me Essek.” It feels a bit odd—almost everyone referred to him either by his title, occasionally followed by his last name—but he thinks it might be a welcome change to hear it be said by another.

“A first name basis,” Wido— _Caleb_ teases. Then, more seriously, “we are friends now, yes?”

Essek considers for a moment, feeling something pull in his chest that he’s far too cowardly to give a name to. “I like that. Friends.”

A buzzing alarm from his phone interrupts then, the first of many he had set to remind him that he needs to take his medication before he goes to bed. He blinks, realizing just how much time has passed without him even realizing. Social interaction typically sapped a significant portion of whatever energy Essek had on a given day, but this had left him surprisingly energized.

“Something wrong?” Caleb asks, folding his cupcake wrapper into a neat triangle.

“Oh, no, not at all.” Essek stands and walks over to the duffel bag where he kept most of the things he needed to make his days a bit more manageable, digging through it until he pulls out the orange pill bottle and holding it up as an answer to Caleb’s question. “Just need this.”

He tips two of the pills into his hand and swallows them, not bothering to get a glass of water like he technically should. Caleb stands up and begins clearing away their plates, loading everything back onto the cart to be taken away. Essek realizes just how cold the room had gotten after the sun had set, and he suppresses a shiver. He’d never done well with this sort of weather.

Caleb steps back into the room and clears his throat. “I was going to take a quick shower before bed,” he says. “Do you mind if I go first, or...?”

“That’s fine with me,” Essek says, pulling his computer back into his lap. “I have a few things I want to finish up anyway.”

“ _Ja_ , okay then.” Caleb pulls what are presumably his pajamas from the chest of drawers, which reminds Essek that he still needs to unpack most of his own belongings, before stepping into the bathroom and pulling the door closed behind him.

It opens back up a split second later, and he sticks his head out. “Oh, um—Frumpkin shouldn’t bother you, but if he does, you can just ignore him. Or, well—you can pet him if you want to, but you don’t have to. He’s a bit spoiled for attention, I’m afraid.”

The cat _chirps_ in seeming protest from where he’s curled up on the desk as if in protest, but Essek nods. “Thank you for letting me know. I, ah, wouldn’t want to do anything untoward.”

“I appreciate that,” Caleb says, smiling slightly. “Well—” he raps his knuckles twice on the doorframe. “I’ll be out shortly.”

The door swings shut again, and he disappears. Essek hears the sound of the shower running a few seconds later, and turns his attention back to the document in front of him with a heavy sigh. The suggested edits seem much less interesting than the person whose company he’s found himself in, especially after their conversation, but the deadline for corrections moved for no one and he had no choice but to finish them up.

Frumpkin does end up jumping down from the table some time later, and walks over to him to rub against his legs again. Essek reaches down a hand to scratch his chin while scrolling through the latest newsletter for the Marble Tomes faculty. He feels tiny claws snag in the silver chain of his medical bracelet, followed by a mournful _mrow_ once Frumpkin realizes he’s stuck in it.

With another sigh, Essek sets his laptop down and sets about freeing the cat, who darts away as soon as he’s able. Deciding to call it quits on his work for the evening, he puts away his computer entirely and spends the next few minutes unpacking his clothes and the handful of items he’d brought with him on his journey.

Caleb steps out of the bathroom soon after, wearing a long sleeved shirt and loose flannel pajama pants, still drying his hair with his towel. “It’s all yours,” he says once he’s done, reaching back inside to hang the towel on one of the pegs. “There should be plenty of hot water left.”

“Glad to hear it,” Essek says, gathering his own clothes for the evening. “I’ll be out as soon as I can,” he adds as he pulls the door closed behind him, sealing him inside the still steamy room.

He undresses and showers fairly quickly, but still takes a few minutes to let the warmth sink into his muscles and relieve some of the tension they held. He would much rather take an actual bath, but it would feel rude to take so long and either keep Caleb up waiting or risk waking him up when he was done. So, he washes as long as he could without taking up the bathroom, steps out of the shower, dresses himself while making sure the scars on his chest weren’t visible through the gaps in his shirt buttons—he’d avoid _that_ conversation with his roommate if at all possible—and reenters the main suite.

Caleb is sitting back against the headboard on the far side of the bed with the comforter pulled over him, Frumpkin in his lap and a book open in his hands. He looks up from it as Essek enters, setting it down on the nightstand before smiling apologetically.

“Sorry, I mean to wait for you before making a decision, but it got cold quickly and I think the heater is broken,” he explains.

He isn’t wrong, Essek realizes as goosebumps form up his arms even through his pajamas. “That’s fine,” he says, fighting back another shiver as he goes to grab a pair of socks from his drawer. “Do you want me to call—what’s her name, the woman from reception?”

“Reani,” Caleb says, “and I already did. She said she’s ‘super duper _duper_ sorry,’ but she can’t call the maintenance person until the morning. Union rules, or something like that.”

Essek pauses, considering for a moment before speaking. “I may have a solution, hold on,” he says at last, running through his mental packing list as he digs through his duffel bag, victoriously holding up the heated blanket he’d remembered to bring with him after all. “Is there an outlet down there?”

“Um, _ja_ , I think so. Pass me the cord?” Caleb takes it from him and leans down, much to Frumpkin’s chagrin, and plugs the blanket in, already turning the dial up to maximum. “Good thinking,” he says as they both spread it over the bed.

“I honestly wasn’t sure if I’d remembered it,” Essek confesses, plugging his phone into the charger and setting it next to the lamp, turning them both off for the night. The blanket isn’t quite large enough to cover the entire bed, and they end up needing to scoot a bit closer together to stay under it completely.

“Well, I’m very glad you did. And I think he is too,” Caleb says, running a hand down Frumpkin’s spine as he purrs contentedly.

“Hm.” Essek yawns, the events of the day seeming to catch up with him all at once. “Goodnight, Caleb,” he says. “See you in the morning.”

“Morning it is,” Caleb murmurs, switching his own lamp off and leaving them in darkness. “Goodnight, Essek.”

His last thought before drifting off is that perhaps sleeping next to Caleb for the evening isn’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cepheid variables: a type of star that 'pulses' with light at very regular intervals. Because of this, they're often used to measure distances, kind of like a ruler or yardstick.
> 
> Stellar magnitude: an "objective" (it's not objective or even all that good can you tell I'm salty?) system of measuring how bright a star is. There's a ton of history to this IRL but it's not really relevant for understanding here.
> 
> Gravitational waves: these are weird, but you can think of them as "ripples" in spacetime that move at the speed of light, typically caused by some fuckery with, you guessed it, gravity.
> 
> Intermediate Mass Black Holes (IMBHs): these are even WEIRDER, and for the record these were actually discovered IRL fairly recently (hence how I incorporated them here LOL), but on a surface level they're just black holes between 100 to like 10,000 times the mass of the Sun. They do have some fucked up implications for the structure of our universe as a whole, but I won't get into that.
> 
> Cosmic Microwave Background (Radiation)/CMB: Okay, this is like... the 'echo' left over from around the time of the Big Bang, or as far back in time towards the Big Bang that we can see with current telescopes. It's basically the leftover light from that time that we can still see.
> 
> Wormholes: alright, Interstellar did everyone dirty with that depiction. Most 'real life' wormholes are gonna be microscopic. Like, sub-microscopic. Like, smaller than the spaces between atoms. But they're pretty much the typical 'bridge' across two sections of spacetime that most sci-fi stuff depicts them as, just more complicated.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! This time, we're getting a Caleb POV for the soul, and we'll see more of where he's at and what he wants. As before, explanations for some of the astronomy terms used here can be found in the notes at the end of the chapter, but let me know if anything needs any more clarification.
> 
> Content warning for anxiety/panic attacks and general mentions of anxiety and sensory overload, as well as the implication of cigarette use.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

> **_~The Mighty Nein~_** **(** **32** **New Messages)**
> 
> **Blueberry, 10:17 PM:** _caaaaaayyyylebbbbb how was ur flight?_
> 
> **Blueberry, 10:17 PM:** _did u die or nah?_
> 
> **Blueberry, 10:18 PM:** _oh my traveler was there a plane crash??? :O_
> 
> **Blueberry, 10:20 PM:** _okayyyy u havent responded so im assuming there was a plane crash and u dieddddd :(((_
> 
> **Little Goblin Girl, 10:22 PM:** _u no da rules jestr!!!_
> 
> **Little Goblin Girl, 10:24 PM:** _6 mor dayz den funereal tim e_
> 
> **Blueberry, 10:25 PM:** _8OOOOO_
> 
> **Blueberry, 10:28 PM:** _what do u want for ur funeral caleb? :3c_
> 
> **Blueberry, 10:29 PM:** _do u want streamers? hamsters? cupcakes?_
> 
> **Blueberry, 10:29 PM:** _OMT OMT OMT did u try the uthodurn cupcakes like i said caleb???_
> 
> **Blueberry, 10:30 PM:** _one of my mama’s clients brought some a few months ago and they were soooooooooo good_
> 
> **Captain Tusktooth, 10:30 PM:** _Uthodurn is in a different time zone, Jester. Caleb’s probably sleeping right now._
> 
> **Blueberry, 10:32 PM:** _well excuuuuuuuuuuse me for being a good friend and checking on him Fjord!!!!! >:((( _
> 
> **Blueberry, 10:33 PM:** _jk jk ilysm <3 XD _
> 
> **Captain Tusktooth, 10:34 PM:** _Thank you, Jester. I appreciate it, and I love you too._
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:36 PM:** _I’ll give him a call in the morning to check in_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:36 PM:** _Before the conference is scheduled to start_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:36 PM:** _Uthodurn time_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:36 PM:** _Which I don’t actually know lol_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:37 PM:** _But I can look up a global clock of Exandria_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:37 PM:** _Or fucking some shit like that idk_
> 
> **Expositer Lionett, 10:37 PM:** _Whatever I’ll fucking figure it out and get back to y’all_
> 
> **Blueberry, 10:38 PM:** _awwwww good idea beau!!! :P_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:40 PM:** _Oh it starts at fucking 6 am Zadash time_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:40 PM:** _I am NOT waking up that early lmao_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:40 PM:** _Sorry Caleb_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:41 PM:** _Suck it lol_
> 
> **Orphanmaker, 10:43 PM:** _i can call him before then period i usually wake up that early to train anyway comma so it’s not a problem period send_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:44 PM:** _Thanks Yasha_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:44 PM:** _You’re the best_
> 
> **Orphanmaker, 10:47 PM:** _thank you bow period send_
> 
> **Mr. Clay, 12:03 AM:** _Hello ever one this is Caduceus Clay here and I can als_

Caleb scrolls bleary-eyed through the backlog of text messages on the Sending app, having woken up on his own before his alarm and before Yasha, or perhaps Caduceus, was apparently supposed to call him. Essek had already been awake, working on his laptop at the small desk on the far wall, so it was just him and Frumpkin in the bed right now. The room is still cold, and he’s hesitant to emerge from his nest of pillows and blankets if he can put it off for a while longer.

Slowly, sleepily, Caleb types out a paragraph long response to include all of them, lamenting again the twenty-five word limit per message that ends up cutting him off several times:

> _Jester, Nott, my flight was fine. I am alive and I do not need a funeral. There was a mix up with my hotel room—_
> 
> _—and there are some ongoing issues with the heating, but that’s the extent of the drama. Beauregard, do you still want the minutes from the—_
> 
> _—Sunlash lecture on Ruidis for the Zadash branch of the Archives? Please let me know whenever you decide to join the waking world. Fjord, you’re—_
> 
> _—correct that I’m in a different time zone now. Yasha, Caduceus, thank you for offering to call me, but I am awake now._

He presses Send for the last time and sits up fully, the motion causing Essek to look over at him. “Good morning,” he says, smiling politely.

“ _Morgen_ ,” Caleb grumbles in return, swinging his legs down and jumping a bit when his bare feet touch the cold, though carpeted, floor beneath them.

“Breakfast isn’t served for another half hour, but I already made some coffee if you’d like some.” Essek lifts his own mug with his eyes still mostly on his computer screen, steam curling high in the chilly air. The enticing scent swirls around Caleb’s brain, already making him feel a little more awake.

“ _Ja_ , definitely. Thank you very much.” He goes over to the kitchenette and pours some for himself, realizing that Essek has probably already had over half the pot based on how much is left, which he’s not sure if he should be impressed at or concerned about. Then again, given the lighter he knows is still burning a hole in his coat pocket, who is _he_ to cast judgement on the habits of others?

“I also went down to ask Reani about the heating,” the drow in question calls from his seat. “She’s supposed to send someone out later today, but apparently the problem is isolated to the upper floors, so it may be ‘a wee bit tricky’ to solve.”

“Good to know,” Caleb says as he takes a long sip from his cup, savoring the warm, bitter taste that swirls around his mouth. He hears a buzz from his phone and walks back over, entering his password (UnaUndLeofricErmendrud99!) and opening up the Mighty Nein’s text thread.

> **Orphanmaker, 7:32 AM:** _oh okay caleb period I was just about to call you period its good to hear from you comma and im glad your safe period—_
> 
> **Orphanmaker, 7:32 AM:** _what was the problem with your room question mark send_

He sighs through his nose, wishing that someone had thought to give Yasha a quick texting tutorial before he’d left, and sets down the coffee mug on the nightstand before typing out another reply. 

> _I got double booked with someone, that’s all. We ended up deciding to room together for the week, so it’s no big deal._

Caleb presses Send again and slips his phone into his pocket, walking back over to the small kitchen table with his coffee cup and proceeding to drain another quarter of it. “Thank you again for the blanket,” he says to Essek after what he hopes is an appropriate amount of time has passed. “It definitely proved to be useful.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m glad you slept well,” Essek replies, only half looking up from his computer at him. Caleb has seen this behavior in himself enough to recognize it, the thorough consumption of one’s attention to an unhealthy degree at times, so he doesn’t make any more small talk, which he’s grateful for as well.

Twenty-four minutes and another half-cup of coffee later, Essek abruptly closes his laptop and stands up. “I have a fairly full schedule for the day,” he begins, slipping the computer into his messenger bag, “but if you’d like, we could meet for lunch and compare notes?”

Caleb is a bit surprised at the gesture—he’s still not entirely sure if Essek wants anything to do with him outside of a professional capacity, even with his tentative, awkward offer at friendship the night before—but pleasantly so, and isn’t about to turn down an offer to convene with a mind buzzing with as many questions and theories as his own was. “I—yes, that sounds excellent. I think I spotted a Marquesian place down the street when I was trying to find my way here. We could meet there around twelve-thirty?”

Essek nods. “I think I know where you’re talking about. The food served at the conference itself is often… about what you’d expect. Twelve-thirty it is.” He smiles again as he pulls his shoes on, and it’s only then that Caleb realizes he’s getting ready to leave on his own.

He frowns. “Aren’t you coming to get breakfast?”

“I’ll just grab something on the way down,” Essek says as he picks up his cane. “There are a few people I need to speak to in private before the event itself gets started.”

Ah, Caleb understands that, the necessity of being hush-hush about ongoing research, and he nods his assent. “Okay. Well, lunch then?”

“Lunch it is,” Essek says with a toothy grin as he adjusts the strap on his bag and the buttons on his long, dark purple peacoat. “I’ll see you there.”

With that, Essek departs and leaves Caleb in the hotel room with only his cat and his coffee cup for company. He sighs, knowing he’s reading too much into that last interaction, but unable to stop himself from overthinking. 

Had Essek been rushing out to avoid him? No, that didn’t make sense, why would he offer to go to lunch if he was doing that? Still, he had seemed hurried, and a bit frazzled, and he had left sort of suddenly, deciding to go without breakfast rather than be around Caleb for another second. Or did he just think that because he wasn’t paying attention and wasn’t very good at reading those kinds of expressions to begin with? And was he really so self-centered to think every emotion someone expressed was about him? It was pathetic, and stupid, and—

Frumpkin, ever the diligent worker, nudges against his hands as they start pressing and scratching at his forearms. Caleb slowly breathes in and out, pulling himself back to the world around him. Silly. He’s being silly. He doesn’t need to overanalyze every nuance of his interactions with Essek like he’d had to with his—his _superiors_ in the past. Sure, Caleb was hoping to learn a thing or two from him, but that wasn’t what this was. Not to mention, Essek belonged to a completely different country with a completely different set of social rules Caleb would have to acquaint himself with, so trying to look at things that way was pointless anyway. He was ultimately reading into nothing, and it was a waste of precious time.

Another buzz interrupts his self-hate spiral, and he picks up his phone as he gets up to rinse out the coffee cup to see another message from Yasha.

> **Orphanmaker, 8:04 AM** : _oh okay caleb period well comma im glad everything worked out period were you able to sleep okay question mark and is your roommate nice—_

There are a few seconds of loading time, during which Caleb sighs impatiently, before the rest of Yasha’s message comes through.

> **Orphanmaker, 8:04 AM:** _—or do we need to come kill them question mark send_

Caleb taps out his response as he pulls his clothes on and gets ready for the day. The breakfast meet and greet had technically started five minutes ago now, but he wasn’t especially in a hurry to be there on time. He preferred generally to let his work speak for him, rather than trying to do it on his own and embarrassing himself. 

> _I slept fine. It’s fairly cold up here, but not intolerably so. I’m hoping that the snow will let up soon. And my roommate is—_

Caleb pauses, trying to think of the best way to describe Essek to his friends. He wasn’t sure ‘brilliant’ or ‘intriguing’ or even ‘fascinating’ would be very acceptable responses, or would answer Yasha was asking him. Maybe just forgo adjectives entirely? Or at least describe who he actually _was_ first?

> — _Dr. Essek Thelyss, from the Kryn Dynasty. He seems nice enough, given the circumstances, and very smart. There’s no cause for concern; Frumpkin likes him._

Yasha’s response is almost immediate.

> **Orphanmaker, 8:07 AM:** _that’s good period glad your safe comma but let us know if we need to come up there period is uthodurn nice question mark send_

He considers for a brief moment, then walks to the frosty window and opens the curtains, snapping a few pictures of the snowy, dawn-dappled city of Uthodurn and sending the best ones through the group chat. 

Yasha’s reply comes through right as he’s leaving with Frumpkin in tow.

> **Orphanmaker, 8:11 AM:** _wow caleb exclamation mark that looks beautiful exclamation mark I really hope you have a good time up there period send_

Caleb smiles to himself as he descends the stairs, opting for a bit of exercise to wake him up some more, and tucks his phone back into his pocket for now. 

With the Exandrian Astronomical Association putting everyone up in the Samliel for the conference, they’d rented out most of the entire first floor as a sort of leisure, relaxation area for the attendees. The event itself was being held mostly in the convention center just across the road. That meant, to get from his shared room to the conference, Caleb would have to navigate through the sea of people that stood in his way.

He takes a deep breath as he pushes open the door to the staircase, finding the first floor hallway thankfully almost empty except for a few people already walking the same direction as he was, and it's easy work to trail behind them from a large distance. Caleb eventually makes it to the foyer, and awkwardly weaves toward the breakfast bar to grab an apple, some bacon, and a piece of toast before making his way out. Without having a companion to eat with and shield him from having to speak with anyone else, he didn’t want to stay long.

He walks slowly, feeding small pieces of the bacon to Frumpkin and admiring the city around him as he eats his own food. It really was quite beautiful. The suburbs of Uthodurn extended almost to the mountain of Kravarad in the distance, and the first few orange and pink rays of sun mingled nicely with the greyish clouds currently sprinkling a light dusting of snow over his head and shoulders. He pulls the scarf a bit tighter around himself before stepping onto the crosswalk and walking into the convention center, eager to get started on a day he’s actually been looking forward to for months.

It’s a bit of a whirlwind after that, but after getting his nametag and snagging a complimentary fountain pen, he starts scrutinizing the cardstock schedule that had been handed to him, double and triple checking times and room numbers. There’s a presentation on planet formation models after the opening remarks that looks interesting, as well as the lecture on Ruidis that he promised he’d watch and take notes on for Beauregard.

He ends up keeping an eye out for Essek as he navigates the growing throng of people—just for the comfort of a somewhat familiar face in a new environment—but, unfortunately, can’t find him anywhere. This was the first time Caleb had gone on any excursion without anyone else in a while, except for Frumpkin, of course, and the difference in routine was throwing him for a loop. But, if he could learn more, and get a bit closer to answering his questions, it would all be worth it.

Twelve thirty approaches right on schedule, and Caleb begins the task of navigating himself to the café where he’d agreed to meet Essek, feeling a flash of anxiety when he realizes he’d forgotten to exchange phone numbers, which might have made this a bit easier. Still, he’s two minutes early when he steps into the small restaurant, breathing in the rich, spicy scent and wincing slightly at the cacophony of noise from the back kitchen.

He waits at his table for four more minutes, ripping his napkin into nervous shreds and staring out of the frost covered window to his left, before he sees Essek approaching from the corner of his eye and sits up straight. “Uh, _hallo_ ,” Caleb smiles, abruptly nervous for the meeting even though he knew, logically, he should have no reason to be. He just wants this to go well, and knows he’s prone to screwing things like this up. That’s it. That must be the reason.

“Hi,” Essek breathes, sliding smoothly into the booth across from him and laying his cane over his lap. He clears his throat. “My apologies for the delay, I got a bit caught up with things.”

“Oh, it’s—you’re fine,” Caleb says, passing him one of the menus. At his feet, Frumpkin slinks between his ankles a few times. “I, um, wasn’t waiting long.” And he’d appreciated having a few moments to settle his nerves and prepare what he wanted to say, but he doesn’t say that part.

“That’s good,” Essek says, looking over the menu. “I must say, I’ve never been here before, so I’m not entirely sure what to expect.”

Caleb lets out a small laugh. “Me neither,” he admits, scrutinizing the different dishes with a critical eye. He’s hard-pressed to find anything that would resemble any of his ‘safe’ foods as he scans it over. “It, uh, looks like they have tea, though.”

Essek turns his menu over to the back, and his face lights up, and Caleb’s chest seizes up. “Excellent! If you’re interested, I’d highly recommend this one.” He holds the paper up and taps one of the teas Caleb couldn’t pronounce in any of the languages he knew.

“Right,” he says, picking a dish at random and rehearsing his order in his head until it’s been placed with their waitress and he’s left to wait with the enigma sitting before him.

Caleb clears his throat once they’re alone, fiddling a bit with one of the straps on his backpack. “Have you found anything interesting so far?” 

“Yes, actually. There was a lecture from one of the Clovis Concord researchers on active galactic nuclei that was surprisingly enlightening. Here, just a moment.” Essek undoes the metal clasps on his bag and rifles through it for a bit, removing a sleek black journal and flipping through it. “Let’s see… Yes, here we are. They also want to launch a new telescope designed specifically to detect quasars,” Essek continues, eyes on the paper and fingers twirling a pen, “but after that incident in Nicodranas and the cleanup the local government there is doing, I doubt the funding will get through for another five years at least.”

Caleb is very familiar with the _incident_ to which Essek is referring, and his ears turn pink with the memory, but he doesn’t dare give voice to that fact and instead leans forward to look over Essek’s notes as he explains the different diagrams and charts he’d jotted down. He isn’t surprised that the notes themselves seem to be in a code of some kind, in addition to being written in a language he can’t understand. Great minds and all. 

Still, he finds himself hanging on Essek’s every word even during the few minutes he speaks, and the two quickly find a rhythm with each other that Caleb hasn’t felt since—well. Effectively since _ever_ , in hindsight.

“...therefore, I’m not sure how sound the conclusions actually _are,_ but the observational data alone is impressive,” Essek finishes.

“ _Ja_ , I am definitely inclined to agree,” Caleb says, still looking down at the papers in front of them. “We certainly wouldn’t be able to get anything like this out of the Empire.”

Essek peers up at him and looks like he’s going to say something, Caleb is ninety-two percent sure, but then their food is served and they’re both forced to lean back away from each other for a few moments—he hadn’t even realized how close they’d gotten in the first place.

Caleb carefully stirs his tea, watching what Essek does with it out of the corner of his eye and mirroring the motions as best he can. The first sip is sweet, with a floral aftertaste he hadn’t been expecting but still finds pleasant. Another stolen glance at Essek proves he’s having a similar response. “This is very good,” Caleb says, and takes another sip.

“I agree.” Essek drinks again, steam fogging up his wire rimmed glasses that are slowly losing their tint now that they’re out of direct sunlight. “We’ll have to come back here before the week is up,” he smiles.

Something flutters in Caleb’s rib cage at that, but he almost manages not to choke on his tea as he sets the cup back down. Essek liked the place Caleb had picked out. Essek wanted to spend more time with Caleb. It was… confusing? Exciting? Something. It was _something_.

He coughs a bit, trying to make it sound more like he’s clearing his throat and probably just making a fool of himself. “That would be nice, I think.”

A series of frantic buzzes from his phone interrupts him then, and he silently curses himself as his face goes hot with embarrassment, fishing it out of his pocket. “I—I’m so sorry, I should have turned this off.”

Essek waves a hand while he takes another sip of his tea. “It’s fine, take your time. I’m not going anywhere for another—” he checks his watch— “thirty-six minutes or so.”

Caleb smiles awkwardly, resisting the urge to mutter another apologize as he opens up the Sending messages currently assailing him.

> **Expositor Lionett, 12:53 PM:** _Yeah man I still want the minutes_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 12:53 PM:** _Or you can just recite the whole damn lecture back to me I guess_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 12:54 PM:** _You know how Sunlash is_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 12:54 PM:** _Can’t fucking give them to me himself lmao_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 12:54 PM:** _Uthodurn looks dope btw_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 12:54 PM:** _Glad your roommate is chill_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 12:54 PM:** _You should ask him about the Eyes of Nine_

He types out a quick message to Beau, painfully conscious of the fact that Essek was probably counting all the ways he’s being rude right now. 

> _Okay, I’ll email them to you when I can. And I’m sure the poster you’re supposed to bring for us will contain plenty of information—_

Caleb swears a bit as the word count cuts him off again, quickly trying to finish his sentence and return to his previous discussion.

> _—to get a conversation going about the Eyes._

Beauregard’s fixation on the constellation in question was a recent one, and perfectly warranted in Caleb’s opinion, but he wasn’t sure how much of that he should reveal to Essek. While he got the sense that neither of them particularly cared about that sort of thing, they _were_ still from warring countries. Best to test the waters a bit more before he brought that one up in earnest.

So he instead clears his throat and says, “Sorry, one of my, ah, colleagues wanted to ask about a lecture I sat through.”

“Hm. Which one?” Essek asks, stirring his tea a bit before drinking from it again.

“The one on Ruidis,” Caleb answers, finishing his own drink and starting to actually _eat_ something from the plate in front of him. “She has a theory that the moon originated from outside of our solar system and migrated here—in truth, she can explain it better than I can. She’s flying out to present some of our work on it the day after tomorrow.”

“Is this your Expositor friend, then?” Essek asks, spreading his napkin over his lap.

“ _Ja_ , this would be Beauregard,” Caleb affirms with a nod, taking a few more bites before continuing. “She’s lived up to her title very well so far. She helped the Cobalt Soul uncover a piracy network operating in the middle of the Lucidian Ocean, of all places, and now she’s thinking this has something to do with some of the more illicit research the Cerberus Assembly is doing.”

It strikes Caleb that he probably shouldn’t be revealing even _this_ much to Essek, least of all in the middle of a crowded cafe in an even more crowded city, and actually bites his tongue to keep from saying any more. He’s usually pretty good at this, at keeping secrets and only doling out the necessary information, but there’s a certain _gravity_ to Essek that he can’t quite put his finger on yet, hesitant as Caleb is to reveal all the knowledge held close to his chest.

“But don’t tell her I said that about her when she gets here, though,” he says quickly to cover his tracks. “She would never let me live it down if she knew.”

Essek chuckles, and there it is _again_ , that flutter in Caleb’s chest that he can’t seem to ignore. “Well, I’d be honored to meet her when she arrives. Is she only staying for the day?”

Caleb nods. “Flying in before dawn, flying back out around midnight. I think her wife Yasha might be coming with her, but I’m not sure yet.” And trying to text _any_ of them to get the information would probably only lead to strife for everyone involved, he thinks as he adds a bit more sauce to his dish, careful not to let it spread and touch anything it isn’t supposed to. 

“She has a lot on her plate—Yasha, I mean,” he continues, because he wants Essek to be as proud of the people he loves as he is. “She’s a martial artist, but she also does music, as well as helping a local group of meteorologists, so she was wanting to learn a bit more about storms on other planets while she’s here. I think there’s a spiritual or dream-study component to that as well, but every time I’ve asked her I just seem to get more confused,” Caleb confesses.

“I see,” Essek says, taking a small bite of his own food. “That does sound like a… _variety_ of interests.”

He nods again and smiles a bit, fiddling nervously with his silverware. “Most of my, um… friends have their fingers in a lot of pots, so to speak. Fjord is a sailor turned oceanographer, Caduceus runs his own temple and does holistic medicine, Jester designs her own apps—oh, um, that reminds me,” Caleb says, removing his phone once again. “We—um, well, if we’re stuck together for the week, we should probably exchange contact information.”

“Mm, I think you’re right on that front,” Essek says, pulling his phone from his pocket and handing it to Caleb, who carefully enters his number and email he uses intermittently, not wanting to get a single digit or character incorrect. Still, having the open line of communication with someone who is sort of familiar ultimately eases his anxieties a bit.

“There we are,” Caleb says, handing the device back and feeling a small jolt with their fingers brush for the briefest of instants.

They end up chatting idly about their research and what they’ve learned so far from various presentations, and again Caleb is struck by just how _easy_ it is to converse with Essek. He can share as much information as he wants about some obscure subject in their shared fields, and Essek genuinely seems to not only listen to him, but understand him as well. He can’t remember the last time he actually felt _heard_ the way he does right now.

Still, Caleb can’t afford to get ahead of himself. He’s painfully aware that they are of warring nations, even if he got the sense that Essek didn’t put much stock in political affairs. His own position was still a precarious one. Can’t afford to get too pulled in.

But he’s so encapsulated by Ess—by the conversation that by the time his internal clock reminds him that he should really be somewhere else at this precise moment, it’s too late. Even though Caleb prides himself on his timekeeping skills, he starts a bit and checks his phone to be certain. Sure enough, it’s a full three minutes past one-thirty. For all his sense of time, it seemed to pull and stretch a bit, caught up in the unique, compelling gravity of this individual as he was.

“I, uh, fear our period of respite has come to an end,” he says, turning the screen around so Essek can see the time as well.

“Oh.” Essek blinks, clearly as taken aback as Caleb is, and glances down at his watch. “Then, perhaps we could continue this discussion later tonight? I believe the Vellum Steeple is open fairly late, if you’d prefer a more… _studious_ setting.”

Caleb’s heart soars until he thinks it might burst from his chest. The idea of being able to share and receive more information like this is one he hasn’t been able to consider in a long time. To say his education had been _interrupted_ would be an understatement, and playing catch up while trying to make progress towards his goals had been painstaking and frustrating more often than not. But to have an opportunity to sit down and actually, properly _learn_ from someone… it could change everything. If only he had it in him to make it so.

“Yes,” he says, hopefully not too quickly, “I would like that very much.” And then, because he can’t help but be a bit too forward, “I think you and I share interests.”

Essek narrows his eyes a bit, but he nods at Caleb’s words and smiles slightly. “Yes, I believe we do.”

“Right,” Caleb continues, encouraged, shifting forward in his seat a bit, “and um… I-I know that it can oftentimes feel and _be_ safer to work alone, but oftentimes you miss out on perspectives that you might not otherwise consider. The sharing of knowledge, the mutual learning, it’s—well, it’s why we do this, is it not?”

Essek holds his gaze, clearly calculating all the inputs and outputs and variables in this conversation as much as Caleb is. “It is,” he says at last.

“Yes, it is. And, um—please believe me, the last thing I want to do is, ah, _overstep_ , but I would be very honored to have the opportunity to learn more from you, and more about your areas of expertise. And I—if you would like, I would be more than happy to share pieces of what I have learned, if you’re able to find them at all useful for what you do,” Caleb finishes. He sends a silent prayer to the one god that might deem him worthy of their blessing that he hadn’t just completely fucked this up, already preparing different ways to backtrack or make the remainder of this week he’s going to be stuck with Essek a bit more bearable after humiliating himself like this.

Essek looks him over a bit more, chin resting in his hand. He eventually nods one last time, and Caleb is able to exhale. “I think that would certainly be amenable.” He pauses. “Gather your books. Meet me at the Vellum Steeple after the day’s events have finished. I can’t give you much, but I can show you some building blocks.”

Caleb blinks. He had _not_ been expecting that to actually work. “I—yes, thank you, that would be wonderful.” His words fall short, he knows they do, but they’re all he can get out right now.

“Very well.” Essek smiles again, and Caleb mirrors the expression with an ease he hasn’t felt in forever. “Then, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Active galactic nuclei: Alright, so, most galaxies have what's called a supermassive black hole at their center. When this black hole is 'eating', to put it simply, it will light up and get super bright. When this happens, the galaxy in question is considered an 'active' galaxy, and the center is called an 'active galactic nucleus'. These are super cool and super powerful and one of the wildest things that happens in nature, in my opinion.
> 
> Quasars: You can think of this as just a super SUPER powerful Active Galactic Nucleus, basically a really big release of electromagnetic energy. We typically see these happen in galaxies that are very far away from Earth, which therefore implies that most of them happened a very long time ago.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we get one more chapter in before the end of 2020! This one's a bit shorter, but honestly the longer chapters are a pain to edit, so it is what it is. As always, let me know what you think and if you have any questions; descriptors for terms will be in the end-of-chapter notes.
> 
> CW for mentions of scarification, in the context of Caleb's backstory
> 
> Enjoy! :)

The walk to the Vellum Steeple once the proceedings have concluded for the day is brisk, the chill creeping in around the edges of Caleb’s coat sleeves and collar now that the sun has gone down but having no effect on the sparks igniting and swirling around his brain. Frumpkin _mrows_ mournfully and shifts around his neck, and he reaches up to scratch behind his ears as he descends down into the underground train system leading deeper into Uthodurn proper.

The building itself lay in the part of Uthodurn that was still underground, and navigating down to it was a bit of a feat. Actually _being_ in a city this size again for the first time since—well. Since a very long time ago was still a bit overwhelming, even with his recent exposure to Nicodranas and Zadash. Thankfully, with Frumpkin and the presence of a mind not entirely unlike his own, Caleb was managing to keep it together.

He steps onto the tram car that leads into the original underbelly of the city, standing with one hand on the railing overhead and the other stroking his cat under the chin. Watching the buildings change as they continue on their route is nothing short of fascinating, and he makes a mental note to inquire a bit more about the city’s history while he’s here. All too soon, his stop arrives and he steps off, stumbling a bit at the jump down onto the pavement but not falling on his face entirely, for which he’s grateful.

Just stepping through the doors of the library and inhaling the swirling scents of paper and coffee and ink is enough to put a smile on Caleb’s face, which only grows when he sees Essek wave from a table reserved in one of the far back corners under a dark window, frost curling at the edges of the panes despite the comparable heat below ground. He returns the gesture and makes his way over, taking a seat across from him to find a steaming paper cup and a sweet-smelling paper bag waiting for him.

“I, ah, thought I’d return the lunch favor by bringing something for dinner. I wasn’t sure what you’d like or if you had any allergies, but—well, the café is on the second floor if you’d like to make an exchange,” Essek says, taking a sip from his own cup and sending the smell of coffee wafting his way.

“This—this is very kind of you, thank you,” Caleb says, removing a delicious-looking Danish from the bag and setting it on his napkin. He pulls off a small piece and eats it thoughtfully. The texture is slightly different on his tongue—he can tell that Uthodurnian chefs use a different dough-making method than those in the Empire—but it’s not bad. “This is very good, you have an excellent eye,” he says once he’s finished.

“I’m glad to hear it. So,” Essek says, setting his cup aside and returning to the papers, notebooks, and open computer in front of him. “Do you have means of copying?”

Caleb nods once and removes one of his two notebooks from his chest pocket, flipping open to an empty page and clicking his favorite pen.

Essek smiles. “Let me teach you a few things.”

The following hours pass in an intoxicating whirlwind of equations and terminologies and theories being traded back and forth. Caleb takes notes where he can, but his mind absorbs all of this like a sponge and there’s little chance he’ll forget any of this—the ideas Essek has, the slanted curvature of his handwriting, the way his eyes light up when he’s explaining a concept he’s particularly passionate about. Every new piece of knowledge feels like it gets him a step closer to what he wants, even if these are just the ‘building blocks’ of cosmology and theoretical physics, as Essek claims. Even for the parts that are familiar, having someone properly explain and clarify things is a blessing.

At one point, while he’s in the middle of carefully inscribing Mordenkainen’s field equations, Caleb sees and feels Frumpkin jump up from his spot in the chair next to him onto the table where they’re working. He moves to get the cat down, a frown on his face and an apology on his lips, but he pays Caleb no mind and trots over to Essek, who is in the middle of annotating some pages copied from what is allegedly one of the most coherent books on large-scale galactic structure. Caleb can only watch, more than slightly mortified, as his cat nuzzles against Essek’s hand and shoves his face under it.

“Oh, um, hello…” Essek says, a bit surprised at the new arrival.

“I, um, I’m so sorry—” He cuts off as Essek actually lifts his hand and gives Frumpkin a scratch behind the ears, smiling all the while.

“It’s really no bother.” He switches his pen to his other hand and continues writing, still petting Frumpkin. “I confess I’ve had little exposure to cats. They’re not native to the Dynasty, unfortunately.”

Caleb’s heart positively _sinks_ at that. “Really? They’re not?”

Essek shakes his head. “No. Pet-keeping in general isn’t especially common. There’s a widespread mentality of, why love something you’re going to outlive? In truth, I’ve always found it a bit pretentious. But, anyway, I digress,” he says, handing Caleb the completed pages for his own perusal. 

He scans the notes eagerly, careful to take into account what Essek has written and extrapolated on, and what he’s said is ‘dated’ or ‘pedantic’. All the while, his impromptu tutor continues petting Frumpkin as he searches for more of his old lecture notes. The cat purrs for a while before deciding to migrate down into Essek’s lap, at which point Caleb’s face burns and he keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the information currently in his hands.

He frowns a bit at one of the sentences circled in red. “I—sorry, never mind, continue,” he says when Essek looks up.

“No, please, if you have any questions, feel free to ask me. It’s honestly refreshing to be able to explain it all.” Essek smiles, and it’s that expression that gives him the courage he needs to finish his question.

“I, just… this part here, about the Halas constant, am I to understand that it’s not actually constant at all?”

Essek nods. “Because the universe is expanding, and that expansion is accelerating, it’s difficult to get an exact measurement of how quickly that’s actually happening. Current measurements are constantly being adjusted, factoring in the age and size of the universe based on what we observe versus what the math tells us.”

“I see,” Caleb murmurs, his mind reeling. “So, if you were to try to pinpoint an exact place in spacetime relative to the universe itself, you would have to constantly adjust your calculations.”

Essek studies him for a bit, but nods again in affirmation. “That is one way of thinking about it, yes.”

“And—and this bit here, about— _Scheisse,_ where was it?” Caleb flips through the pages in front of him, holding up the right book triumphantly as it emerges from the pile. “Here, this, about time dilation and gravitational potential. Would your measurement of how quickly the universe is expanding change relative to your own personal sense of time?”

“That’s precisely part of the problem,” Essek explains. “There is no such thing as a truly objective measurement. Everything is relative to everything else. What we call _gravity_ is really just a different frame of reference. We could say that this—” he holds up a pen— “is the center of the universe just as easily as this—” he holds up his notebook— “and we would have to adjust our calculations accordingly. Even putting something relative to ‘the universe’ is a daunting task, because it is ever changing and much of it still eludes us.”

Caleb nods along. “We know, what, four of five percent of it, if that?”

“Exactly. And of that four or five percent, we still understand very little.” Essek smiles. “How many times have your stellar observations gone awry, and you’ve had to re-evaluate your hypotheses?”

Caleb laughs, realizing too late that he’s being a bit too loud for their current setting. “More than I’d care to admit,” he says, softer. “But I choose to believe it’s the fault of the telescopes.”

It’s Essek’s turn to laugh at that, the tips of his fangs just peeking out over his bottom lip. “Ah, yes, the perils of Exandria’s atmosphere. I’m familiar.”

“Mm hmm.” Caleb realizes he’s been staring for far too long now, and quickly lowers his gaze back down to his notes. “I, uh… sorry, just one last question.”

“Please,” Essek says, waving a hand.

“Um, you… here, this talked about M-theory and the spatial dimensions of the universe.” Caleb turns the notebook in his hands so Essek can see, and leans a bit closer to give him a better view. “Is it—from what I understand, there’s still some debate as to how many dimensions there actually _are?”_

“Yes, you’d be correct in that. Very astute,” he adds, and Caleb sits up a little straighter at the praise. “Some believe there to be ten for the math to work out with string theory alone, but here it would be eleven. Even so, there are still some discrepancies. There are those who believe there to be as many as twenty-six.”

“I understand,” Caleb says, a bit troubled by the lack of consistency. Then again, nature was as esoteric as she was unforgiving. 

“The whole thing is a bit muddled,” Essek says. “Even those who are experts in the topic think so. I honestly find it rather convoluted myself.” 

He realizes that Essek is trying to reassure him, and feels a pang of _something_ in his chest. When he’s finally able to respond, he sighs. “Well, who knows, perhaps one day we can churn out the right number together.” 

Too late, the full implication of his statement hits him, but he can’t backtrack now or take it back. Time marches ever forward, much to his disdain. But thankfully, Essek only nods and smiles once again. “Yes, perhaps we shall. End up alongside the books with Lutagran and Mordenkainen.”

A small thrill goes through Caleb at that. Going down in history, being _remembered_ … it was the closest thing to immortality that they had. His personal ambitions aside, making something great that would last long after he had withered away, his ashes returned to the stars above, was a prospect nothing short of enthralling.

“Perhaps one day,” he whispers, dropping his gaze back down to the notes in front of him. “If I can ever figure this all out.”

They fall into that same companionable silence after that, with Caleb occasionally asking a question and Essek being more than willing to answer. As before, he’s of course aware of the passing of time, but they’re both so entrenched in the work and the progress they’re making that it doesn’t fully register to him, and by the time it does, the consequences are imminent and come in the form of one of the librarians approaching them and informing them that they’ll be closing in fifteen minutes.

Caleb blinks owlishly at her as time comes back to him, remembering all of a sudden that he’s a person sitting at a table in a building and that there are more things he needs to worry about than the contents of his companion’s brain. “I, uh, well—”

“Thank you for letting us know, we’ll be out shortly,” Essek smiles, coming to his rescue.

“Good.” The librarian nods once before walking away, leaving them to their own devices once again.

“We, uh—well, we should probably get going,” Caleb says, sheepishly gathering his notebooks and papers.

“Yes, I suppose,” Essek laughs, closing his computer and returning it to his bag.

“Thank you, I—this is a great gift,” he continues carefully.

Essek nods, standing and lifting his bag in one hand and his cane in the other. “Remember it. Perhaps later this week, I can call the favor back in.” He smiles. “Now, let’s head out.”

The first breath of cold, crisp air that fills Caleb’s lungs once they’re back up on the surface is surprisingly invigorating, and gives him the energy he needs to continue with the walk home. In contrast, Frumpkin burrows deeper beneath his scarf and lets out a displeased _mrow_ at the wind that ruffles his fur. He absently lifts a hand to scratch under the chin as he once again gazes at the city around them, taking in the glow of the streetlamps and the apparently perpetual snow drifting down from the skies above.

“Is this your first time in Uthodurn?” Essek asks next to him, apparently noting his reaction.

“Ah, yes, it is,” Caleb says, embarrassed for some reason he can’t pinpoint. “I’ve spent most of my life in the Empire. My friends and I ventured briefly to Nicodranas for some business there, but most of our time has been spent in the Wynandir region. I think Beauregard referenced a trip up here for the Cobalt Soul some time ago, but I’m not entirely sure. Zadash specifically is our ‘home base’, so to speak.”

He doesn’t get into the details, the slow process of trying to piece together what’s going on with the Assembly, all the late nights staking out the Halls of Erudition and more often than not sneaking in, the occasional illicit affairs they were contracted to do for Jester’s father. He and Essek are still in an unstable orbit around each other, caught in this careful dance of give and take, and he doesn’t want to risk any missteps that might send him careening the opposite direction. As much as he’s slowly come to like and even trust Essek despite the positions inflicted upon them by extenuating politics, he’s still unsure just what his personal agenda is, if any, and doesn’t want any information falling into the wrong hands.

Essek _hms_ as they pause at the crosswalk. “Interesting. I take it then that you all travel together most of the time?”

 _“Ja_ , more or less,” Caleb nods. “Effectively since we all met, for equal parts convenience and companionship—though, in hindsight, those both took quite some time to actually develop,” he chuckles.

“I see,” Essek nods. “A custom I can’t say I’m familiar with, but one I understand nonetheless.”

They fall into what Caleb hopes isn’t an awkward silence as they walk the remaining few blocks to the hotel, and exchange a few quick words with Reani about the heating (“Sorry, it’ll _totally_ be fixed really soon, I promise!”) before taking the elevator up and reentering the hotel room. Caleb sighs internally when he sees that the room service has been in, but they thankfully haven’t moved any of his things around, which is a relief.

Caleb sheds his overcoat and hangs it up next to Essek’s sleek, purple one by the door before falling with a huff into ‘his’ chair. Frumpkin wastes no time jumping up into his lap, purring and soothing him slightly. The day’s events have left him a bit weary, he’s forced to admit.

Essek sets his own bag in the desk chair, plugging in his computer and organizing his documents a bit better. “It’s fairly late, would you still like to shower first, or…?”

He looks up and nods at that. Keeping to the same routine as the night before would ease some of his tension a bit. “ _Ja,_ that works for me.” 

Heading into the bathroom, he sheds his clothes and kicks them to the side, confronted once again with the current state of his forearms. The jagged scars themselves seem to prickle, even void of any foreign objects or substances as he knows them to be, and he resists the urge to scratch as best he can as he stares at himself in the mirror. Hair limp, eyes dark, shoulders slumped—he hardly seems put together or competent like this, and sighs heavily. 

Abruptly, Caleb pulls out his ponytail and rakes his fingers through his hair, wincing at the dryness and split ends he feels. Maybe the fancy hotel shampoo will do better than the nearly-gone bar of soap he’s been using back home? If he can salvage his appearance a bit, then perhaps—

Just as suddenly, he stops. What is he _doing?_ He was supposed to look plain, easily ignored, for his own safety. Even coming _here_ so openly was extremely risky. Why would he suddenly give a shit whether he was—what, _attractive?_ Desirable? It was ridiculous. He shakes his head with another exasperated sigh, and turns towards the bathtub, turning the water as hot as he can before stepping beneath it. He allows himself to be lost in thought while he goes through the motions of washing himself, his mind swimming with equations and theories and postulates and proofs... and accents, and earrings, and flavors of tea, and a clear passion and love for discovering the inner workings of the universe that he never thought he’d see in someone else.

Caleb climbs into the bed carefully once he’s out of the shower, holding Frumpkin close to his chest and pulling the blankets tightly around him. He sighs heavily once he hears the bathroom door close behind Essek, letting the pent up exhaustion of the day and the effort spent trying to get his thoughts in order wash over him, and pulls one of the pillows over his head for a few moments.

An onslaught of buzzes interrupts his reverie, and he extends one hand blindly to fumble for his phone. Pulling it back under the covers, he sees a myriad of messages from Beauregard in their private channel.

> **Expositor Lionett, 10:52 PM:** _Hey man_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:52 PM:** _You got a minute to talk_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:52 PM:** _Like I’m not trying to freak you out or anything_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:52 PM:** _Just some stuff I think you should know_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:52 PM:** _It’s about your roommate_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:52 PM:** _Wait shit are you sleeping_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:52 PM:** _Fuck my bad dude_

Caleb swears to himself and types out a reply.

> _I am awake, Beauregard. What is it?_

He sees the words ‘ _Expositor Lionett is typing…’_ creep over the bottom of the screen for a moment before she answers.

> **Expositor Lionett, 10:53 PM:** _Alright alright damn_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:53 PM:** _So I did a little research on him_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:53 PM:** _Because I can get that kinda info now_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:53 PM:** _And cuz I care about your bitch ass or whatever_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:53 PM:** _It looks like he’s a researcher at this place called the Marble Tomes_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:53 PM:** _Which is like, this religious university run by the Kryn government_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:53 PM:** _I gotta say his public image is actually pretty impressive_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:54 PM:** _Lot of praise from various political people, even from the Queen herself_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:54 PM:** _Hell I read some of his papers and didn’t understand half of it_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:54 PM:** _So I’m guessing that means they’re either legit or total bullshit lol_

Caleb responds slowly, one hand still focused on petting Frumpkin.

> _Okay, that is good. Glad to know you’re putting your expertise to good use._
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:54 PM:** _Hey fuck you man_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:54 PM:** _I don’t have to bring our poster you know_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:55 PM:** _Fucking dissing my skills_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:55 PM:** _I’ll fucking kick your fucking ass I swear to Ioun_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:55 PM:** _Haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:55 PM:** _And you have the nerve to treat me this way_

He sighs through his nose. It’s just like Beauregard to dangle her thrilling conclusion over his head.

> _My apologies, Beauregard. Please, what is the ‘good stuff’?_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:55 PM:** _Thought you’d never ask_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:55 PM:** _So_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:56 PM:** _I’ll admit Nott helped me a little with this part_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:56 PM:** _Because hacking government agencies and all_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:56 PM:** _And some of this is from Dairon_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:56 PM:** _So credit where credit is due_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:56 PM:** _But we managed to get some of his old records_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:56 PM:** _Transcripts, recommendation letters, thesis drafts, that sort of thing_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:57 PM:** _Anyway_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:57 PM:** _The weird thing_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:57 PM:** _He was originally supposed to study theology and political science_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:57 PM:** _But switched after the first semester to start his own fucking program_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:57 PM:** _Which like I gotta admit is pretty badass_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:57 PM:** _Sticks around for grad school as like the only student studying that nerd shit y’all do_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:57 PM:** _Thing is_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:58 PM:** _Alright so he’s studying the Beacons right_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:58 PM:** _Like the one we found in Zadash apparently_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:58 PM:** Guess what

He sighs again, a bit exasperated with her theatrics at this point, but not wanting to discourage her from her newfound passion for unearthing puzzle pieces and putting them together.

> _What?_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:58 PM:** _They fucking_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:58 PM:** _Go MISSING_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:58 PM:** _Right while he’s working on them_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:58 PM:** _So the thingy we’ve had hidden in Jester’s bag_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:58 PM:** _He’s probably held it on his hands_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:58 PM:** _Assuming it’s one of the same ones and all_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:58 PM:** _Which I don’t see how they couldn’t be honestly_
> 
> **Expositor Lionett, 10:59 PM:** _Crazy coincidence right_

Caleb raises his eyebrows at Beauregard’s messages, unable to deny just how ‘crazy’ the coincidence in question was. He’d been hesitant to even give much thought to looping Essek into his plans for the Beacon in his friends’ possession. It was an extremely delicate situation, and there were so many things that could go wrong. But perhaps… perhaps the perfect source of answers for it really was right in front of him. 

Or, rather, right next to him, as Essek emerges back into the main suite and makes his way over to the bed, his typically coiffed hair still damp from his shower, which Caleb does _not_ stare at. “I still have the blanket if you think we’ll need it…?”

“ _Ja,_ I think that would be best,” Caleb says, casually putting his phone on silent and tucking it into the drawer next to him for the night. “Um, thank you again, also.”

“Of course.” Essek unfolds the blanket from the foot of the bed, once again handing Caleb the cord to plug it in before sliding in beside him. “The last thing I want is you freezing on me.”

Caleb feels his face get hot, but at least that means he definitely _won’t_ be freezing anytime soon. “ _Ja_ , um, me neither. Or—I wouldn’t want you to freeze, I mean.” He screams internally at his awkwardness, miraculously resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands and instead petting Frumpkin with renewed vigor.

“Definitely not,” Essek yawns, reaching up to turn off his lamp. “Well, goodnight, Caleb.”

Caleb blinks in the sudden darkness. “Goodnight,” he whispers. He turns on the blanket, listening to the faint buzz of electricity as it warms them both and Essek’s breathing, and slowly falls asleep. 

Just as before, there are no nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Field equations: So IRL these are Einstein's Field Equations, but I realized that Albert Einstein does not exist in Exandria, so I'm working with what I have. These basically explain general relativity and how spacetime 'curves' with mass. Super geometrical and kind of abstract, so I won't get too deep into it.
> 
> 'Halas' Constant: Okay, again, our in-world equivalent is the Hubble Constant, but again, Edwin Hubble doesn't exist in fantasy magic land. This is basically a term that describes how quickly the universe is expanding, and because the expansion of the universe is actually accelerating, it makes it weird and there's not a very good interpretation of it.
> 
> Time dilation: There's this thing that happens when you move super duper DUPER fast, like, close-to-the-speed-of-light fast, where time will actually slow down around you in response to your relative, increased velocity. This does relate to gravity because all gravity really is, is an accelerated frame of reference, but I can't really explain that super well without getting into some really heavy stuff so just trust me.
> 
> M-theory: This basically attempts to unify all the different versions of string theory that are out there, and string theory is basically the idea that all matter (and energy) arises from the vibrating of 'strings' at different frequencies. But due to some other stuff, this also implies that our universe isn't actually 3-D, but has more dimensions that are sort of 'curled up' in on themselves. How many dimensions there actually are is still up for debate to most people.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a bit!!! But here, have a chapter that I wrote and re-wrote and edited and butchered until finally getting to a place where I feel like I can post it without feeling bad about it. 
> 
> I don't think there are any specific content warnings that haven't already been mentioned, or any Wonky Space Words that I haven't used before, but do let me know if anything needs to be cleared up or tagged and I'll get right on it.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Essek wakes up, if he could really call it that with how fitfully he’d been sleeping in the first place, to Caleb’s back pressed against his side and a leg draped over his. He stills for a few moments, not out of shock or disgust or embarrassment, but because of the lack of all those things currently flooding his brain. Every single point of contact seems to burn through his skin and melt him inch by inch, warmth tunneling down into his already aching bones.

Caleb shifts a bit, and he instinctively slams his eyes shut and slows his breathing down. He regrets the decision immediately when Caleb, still asleep, scoots unconsciously closer to him and pulls the heated blanket a bit tighter around them both, earning a reproachful  _ mrrp _ from Frumpkin near his knee.

He’s not sure how long he stays like that, listening to Caleb’s light snoring and feeling the occasional limb brush against his. Essek doesn’t dare open his eyes, not quite sure what that would lead to and being too… too  _ something _ to excise himself from this delicate situation. So he instead watches the light beyond his eyelids slowly turn brighter as time ticks ever by, faintly tinged with all the different colors of the sunrise, until Caleb sighs heavily and stretches languidly, likely yawning by the sound of it as he joins the world of the waking.

Then Caleb freezes next to him, and Essek hears him mutter  _ ‘Scheisse’ _ before carefully but quickly standing up from the bed. There’s silence for a few more moments, followed by the sound of footsteps leading away and the increasingly familiar  _ creak _ of their bathroom door, and he’s alone.

Essek exhales, opening his eyes and blinking a bit as they adjust. According to the clock on his nightstand, there’s exactly twenty-nine minutes before the alarm is supposed to go off. He reluctantly reaches one hand out of the insular shield of the covers, shivering a bit at the comparably cold air, and pulls his phone towards him beneath the blankets.

He squints a bit as he turns it on and his eyes are assaulted by the light, and quickly lowers the brightness before opening his email and scrolling through the unread messages in his inbox, hoping that the rote process will banish the thoughts of  _ whatever _ had just transpired, if anything at all. It’s more of the same, mostly events and weekly announcements, but his heart leaps a bit at the subject line he sees first, which he quickly opens.

> **Proposition for An Advanced Class on General and Special Relativity for the Spring Term**
> 
> _ Dr. Thelyss, _
> 
> _ Thank you for your interest in creating a new, specialized course for the Marble Tomes to offer for the coming semester. Unfortunately, because Halas Lutagran’s theories hold little relevance to current canonical teachings on the Luxon, such a course cannot be justified with our current budget constraints, and your request has been rejected. With such low enrollment in your department already, we are advising you to continue with your assigned research and not take on any instructional duties at this time.  _
> 
> _ As a reminder, your continued position is dependent upon your ability to produce results that are applicable to the expansion of our understanding of the Luxon entity and how it affects the Kryn Dynasty, and your funding from Her Majesty the Bright Queen herself is to be used for this purpose only. In light of the recent increased tensions and number of skirmishes with the Dwendalian Empire, this pursuit is of the utmost importance and a high priority for the Kryn Dynasty. We therefore ask that you publish prior to the upcoming worship ceremony scheduled for Barren Eve (2nd Duscar). While this is much closer of a deadline than you may have anticipated, we are confident in your ability to meet it, given your success rate thus far. _
> 
> _ Light be with you, _
> 
> _ Marble Tomes Dean, Dr. Tuss Waccoh, _
> 
> _ On Behalf of Her Majesty The Bright Queen, Leylas Kryn _

Essek’s eyes scan the rest of his messages without reading them, having gotten all the information he already needs and can handle for the day. His brain seems to fill with static as he slowly exhales through his nose, turning his phone off and letting it fall forward on his chest. He pulls his hands over his face, thinks carefully for a moment, and abruptly gets out of bed, ignoring the sharp pains and pops from his hips and knees as he stands. The cold was already weighing on him more than he’d thought it would, as he really should have come to expect by now.

He listens for a moment, angling his ears and hearing the run of the bathroom faucet after a brief moment, then a popping sound he recognizes as the opening of a travel toothbrush case. Satisfied that Caleb won’t be listening for now, Essek reaches into his backpack and removes an older model, nondescript calculator. He removes the back of it, pulls out the small burner phone sitting where the batteries would go, turns it on for the first time in months, and sends a message of his own.

When he’s done, he quickly returns his things to their rightful places and climbs back into the bed to await his alarm. He hears Caleb emerge a few minutes later, followed by the clattering, inevitably obtrusive sounds of a pot of coffee being made.

Much of the morning passes in a haze. He exchanges pleasantries with Caleb over breakfast, smiles when appropriate and nods when not. He’s vaguely aware of his companion agreeing to accompany him for the duration of the panel he’s supposed to appear on, but little else. That is, until his companion says something that jolts him back to reality.

“Sorry, what was that?” 

Caleb blinks and shifts a little in his seat. “I, um…” He clears his throat, and Essek feels a brief flash of guilt at making him uncomfortable before he continues. “I mentioned, uh… well, in hindsight, perhaps I should have brought it up sooner, but I have actually had a handful of opportunities to work closely with one of the Beacons. I—my understanding is that it was— _ is _ one of the ones that went missing from your country…?”

Essek narrows his eyes, suspicious despite himself. That was quite an important piece of information to hold onto for so long. Then again, who was he to really judge, especially in this particular circumstance? Nevertheless, the question of how much Caleb actually knew was immediately at the forefront of his mind, compounding his caffeine-induced heart palpitations.

“Interesting,” Essek muses, trying his best to sound intrigued and not panicked. He glances around to make sure no one is looking in their direction or listening inconspicuously. “Could you, ah, perhaps elaborate a bit on that point? How did you discover it, and in what state?” 

“Yes, that seems fair.” Caleb sets down his silverware and folds his hands in front of him, fiddling a bit with the cuffs of his dress shirt, and takes a deep breath. “My— _ friends  _ and I first recovered it in Zadash, where we’ve been staying for a while now. It was, um… I—Forgive me, I would be correct in my assessment that the Beacons were  _ stolen _ from your home by the Empire, correct?”

Essek’s heart slows down a fraction.  _ Stolen from _ , not  _ given away _ . That was a good sign. “Yes, you would be,” he says softly, sipping his coffee as casually as he can realistically manage, hoping his hands don’t shake as much as he thinks they are. “A few years ago, two went missing from the capital city of Rosohna, where they’re usually kept. I was doing my research on them at the time, so it was particularly inconvenient,” he mutters dourly. If he can successfully pass himself off as nothing more than an inconvenienced student, he just might be in the clear.

But then Caleb gives him a sympathetic look, and an emotion he’s never known and thus has no name for runs through him, cutting him through to the bone despite its unfamiliarity. “I’m sorry, truly. I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

Essek smiles. “You have no idea.” He takes a bite of his food, and it tastes of ash. “But, as you were saying, you’ve encountered one of them in person?” He asks once he’s swallowed.

“Yes, I have. It was in the process of being stolen  _ back _ by a member of your country. We were a bit caught up in the fray at the time and it sort of… fell into our possession, so to speak.” Caleb takes a long drink of his coffee, and Essek takes a moment to study him closely. He’s being a bit vague—more than a bit, actually—but he knows better than to press for too much too soon. If nothing else, it would reflect suspiciously on  _ him _ , and that was the one thing he needed to avoid right now above all else.

“We didn’t know what it was, or what to do with it, or how to realistically return it,” Caleb continues, gesturing with his hands as he explains. “For a long time we’d take turns trying to figure it out, but without the proper context or explanation for what we were seeing, it was difficult to make head or tail of it. But, I can see why you would be interested in it. It’s… fascinating.”

Essek nods. “Indeed it is. And, that would make sense, given how long it's taken even us to unravel just the beginnings of its mysteries. I have to ask: does anyone else know about this? Have you told anyone, or might anyone have seen it inadvertently?”

Caleb fidgets in his seat for a moment before replying. “One—just one other person, to my knowledge. In Nicodranas, there’s a man named Yussa Errenis. He’s a bit reclusive so I’m not sure if you’re familiar with him, but he runs the Tidepeak Tower and does his research there. He dabbles a lot with mathematics and I thought that perhaps he might have some insight. Unfortunately, it, um… didn’t pan out, and he wasn’t able to help us make any significant progress. But that’s everything, we’ve just been holding onto it since then while we—while we take care of other things.”

“I see.” Essek sighs. By some almost cruel stroke of luck, it doesn’t seem like his particular involvement with this scenario has come to light at all. Still, Caleb and by extension his friends are all much too close to this situation for his comfort. He’s never had to live by the age-old philosophy of keeping one’s friends close, but one’s enemies closer, having little to none of the former and having amassed a wide variety of the latter. He’d firmly classified Caleb as the former, and would like to keep it that way, and thus would have to get closer to him nonetheless. The thought is… surprisingly not unappealing.

“I… If you’d like, I could talk to Beauregard about bringing it with her when she arrives tomorrow? We’ve been thinking it would be best to return it, but I don’t think I would be incorrect in my thinking that you would appreciate another chance to study it firsthand.” Caleb turns his mug around in his hands, absently scratching at the handle in a regular, practiced pattern.

Essek considers for a few moments, carefully weighing his options. Learning more about the Beacons remained one of his main goals of his entire life. Even just a few uninterrupted days with Ca—with the Beacon Caleb had could make his career. He could bring it back to Xhorhas after they were done, trust that the Assembly would be able to make do with the one day still had, make up some fabrication about how he’d found it, and none would be the wiser. And getting to study it  _ with _ someone as like-minded as he was… while he was generally fairly secretive and mistrustful regarding his work, that would be an opportunity he couldn’t refuse.

And yet, even now, he still wasn’t quite sure yet how much Caleb knew. Was this some kind of test, to see how desperate he was to get with the Beacons? He had some notion of Caleb’s past, and a feeling that it included the Assembly in some regard. Could this whole thing have been fabricated to shut him up? Keep him quiet and sated while the three of them ran wild with  _ his  _ research? He’d just reached out after all, were they planning to have him— 

Essek shakes himself and takes a sip of his coffee, which is perhaps not the best choice to make at this particular moment. He’s flirting dangerously with the line between healthy suspicion and full blown paranoia, and it’s unbecoming of someone of his station and capabilities. Keep it together. He’s done it for this long, he can do it for just for a few more days. No need to let this all fall apart now, not when he was so close.

“I think that would be a good idea. Just—do be careful, I can’t imagine smuggling a priceless religious artifact would go over well with airport security,” he says at last.

Thankfully, Caleb laughs at that and ducks his head slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. Since when had they both leaned in so close together?  _ “Ja,  _ I will make sure to alert Beauregard of the dangers, though I doubt I’ll need to. Believe it or not, she’s made a name for herself largely based on mail fraud.” 

Essek raises his eyebrow at that and drains the rest of his coffee, drumming his fingers on the linoleum table. “That is… an interesting way to make one’s name, but who am I to judge?” He doesn’t strictly  _ mean _ for that last part and all its implications to slip out, but he’s exceptionally nervous at the moment. And, who knows, perhaps Caleb would be intrigued by the vague insinuation.

“Yes, she’s quite the accomplished individual,” Caleb says with a small laugh. “Anyway, um… I do apologize for not letting you in on this sooner, though I’m sure you can understand with how sensitive the information is why some… discretion would be required. It’s a very delicate situation with a lot of moving parts.”

“Of course,” he nods. He obviously wished he had known of Caleb’s connection to his actions, albeit tangential, but there was nothing he could do about that now. But he  _ could _ adapt. He always had.

“We should probably get going soon anyway, it’s already eight thirty-two.” Caleb finishes his own drink and picks up his scarf. Essek, despite himself, glances up from his watch—sure enough, eight thirty-two exactly—and watches him deftly tie it around his neck. He lifts Frumpkin in as he stands up, and the cat disappears into the fabric.

Essek follows suit, hiding his wince at the creak in his knees. There’s definitely a pinched nerve in his left hip, but he ignores it as he falls in step beside Caleb. Focus. He needs to focus, especially today. A lot is riding on today, and the familiar weight settles onto his shoulders as they step into the convention center. Thankfully, he’s learned to carry it well over the years.

Caleb clears his throat as they step into the panel hall, and it’s then that Essek remembers the fact that he was actually planning on attending. “Would you like me to prepare any particular questions?” He asks, his voice light. “Specific topics you’d like to talk about or emphasize, that sort of thing?”

Essek blinks, the sounds of mingling people and thinly veiled snubs towards various proposed theories fading briefly into the background. That Caleb even cared to come to this— _ event _ that he considered to be more of a charade than anything else was… perhaps the word he was seeking was  _ ‘touching’ _ . But giving him a chance to talk about what he was passionate about, in an environment where he stood a chance of being listened to and taken seriously… he didn’t have a word for that in his vocabulary.

“S-sure,” he says after a moment, collecting himself. He flicks through a few pages of the prepared notes in his binder to cover how flustered he currently is. “Um, perhaps about the recent seeming increase in gravitational wave detections out of the facility in Emon? I have a few thoughts that I’d like to share. But—whatever you want is fine, ultimately.” He laughs a bit, hoping it’s not too out of place for this situation.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Caleb nods. “Well, best of luck to you—not that you’ll need it, of course.” 

“Thank you anyway,” Essek smiles. He leaves Caleb to his own devices, ascends the short staircase to the stage with only minimal difficulty given the day he’s had so far, and takes his seat with the other panelists. 

Thankfully, he’s not the last one to arrive; from the looks of it, they’re still waiting for Professor Vysoren to join them, but the other seats at the table are occupied. A cursory scan down the line reveals faces he more or less recognizes, if only from author portraits—all except for one, a dark-haired woman sitting at the other end. Essek can’t see the nameplate in front of her from this angle or any other discernible details, and he’d have thought little of it, but he glances at Caleb sitting in the front row and sees how scrutinizing his expression is and the tension carved into every line of his body.

Essek’s own eyes narrow as he watches Caleb study the woman, clearly tilting his head to get a better view of her face, which is turned downwards as she reviews her own notes. He looks back and forth between the two as discreetly as he can, and watches at last as she tucks a strand of short hair behind one of her ears and Caleb’s eyes widen and he sits back in his chair, somehow both ramrod straight and slouched over to hide himself at the same time.

Hm. Perhaps he knows her, whomever she is. But how, and how well, remained to be seen. He files the information away to ask about later and returns his attention to the opening remarks right as they’re concluding. 

Despite the attention he knows he should be paying to the discussions and questions around him, the more pertinent problem of the situation with Caleb and all of its nuances seems to hover at the forefront of his brain. He’s distantly aware of the explanation he’s currently giving on white holes and his personal opinion on whether they actually exist, but most of his mind is elsewhere. Namely, it’s preoccupying itself with further pondering the question of how much he could and should trust Caleb with versus how much he actually wanted to, and why he was behaving so strangely now, and why he was spending this much brainpower even thinking about all of this in the first place when he had to have realized how fruitless the endeavor was by now.

Then the enigma in question raises his hand during the question and answer session, and he’s snapped back to a far more pleasant reality than the one he’d been contemplating.

“Hi. With, um—” Caleb clears his throat, and when he speaks again, his voice is much more confident, to the point where Essek feels a strange, unexpected note of pride on his behalf. “With the recent construction of the facility in Emon to detect gravitational waves, and with the results they’ve already produced, is there anything in particular you would like to prove, or disprove, or investigate further in light of the current data?”

Essek can’t help the small grin that creeps over his face. That’s not just a question, that’s bait for him specifically, and Caleb knows it if the twinkle in his eyes isn’t imaginary. And Essek finds that he really, truly hopes it isn’t.

“There are a number of experiments and simulations we can use the data for,” he answers, leaning in closer to the small microphone in front of him and launching into his explanation. He’s rehearsed some (most) of the words plenty of times before, to the point where their flow is second nature, but it’s different when he’s in front of a mirror or a review board versus staring at Caleb and watching his face slowly light up with understanding. He feels painfully  _ seen _ in a way he hasn’t before, and it’s all he can do to hope it doesn’t show in any way.

Before he even realizes it, the panel is over, and Caleb is approaching him at the base of the stage with Frumpkin trotting dutifully at his heels.  _ “Hallo, _ ” he says, grinning. “That was fascinating. Thank you for, um…for answering my questions and whatnot. You were amazing.”

Essek smiles despite himself as they start walking, weaving and meandering between the throngs of conversing people. Hesitant though he knows he should be to risk getting too personal with Caleb, especially given the apparently delicate and tenuous positions they were now in with each other, he can’t help but find him equal parts intriguing and something  _ else _ he can’t and won’t give name to yet. And, he’s grateful that Caleb seems a bit more at ease now, given how stressed he’d seemed earlier.

“I thought everything you said was very interesting. All of it was interesting, really, but—I just mean that your comments seemed particularly insightful, that is,” Caleb continues, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Essek nods, leading them further onwards. “And,” he says as he holds open the door, “perhaps tomorrow I can offer you some similar feedback.”

The hallway beyond is comparatively quiet and empty, and the sudden silence is a bit jarring. Still, the lack of sound is quickly interrupted by Frumpkin chirping at his feet and nuzzling against his calf, purring loudly. Before Essek can even consider an appropriate reaction, he trots back over to Caleb and jumps into his outstretched arms as if nothing had happened.

“Do you have any particular plans for the afternoon? After that, I was thinking of attending the lecture on tidal disruption events scheduled for later this evening,” Caleb says as Frumpkin situates himself around his neck.

Essek thinks for a moment. Frustratingly enough, he’d gotten no reply from his…  _ associates _ when he’d reached out earlier this morning about when they were supposed to meet, and seeking them out in person right now was dangerous at best and disastrous at worst. If he’s going to be miserable this evening, it might as well be spent in the company of a friend.

“Gladly. Remind me, when is it supposed to start?”

“Four-thirty. It’s twelve-eighteen now, so if you’d like to do something else in the meantime, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Noted. Well, it should be easy enough for me to come along.” In theory, he should return to their shared room for a while to rest, especially considering he’d once again forgotten to take his morning dose of his medications, but he has more pressing matters to contend with right now. One that he can clear up with relative ease, hopefully, is the reason behind Caleb’s reaction to the woman at the panel.

“My commentary aside,” he continues carefully, “did you find anyone else particularly compelling? I’ll admit I didn’t catch everyone’s name, unfortunately, but I may be able to put you in contact with one or two of them if you’d like.” Ordinarily he wouldn’t offer—and, strictly speaking, he hadn’t planned to until he was already doing it—but despite the potential threat it poses to his personhood, he wants to help Caleb as much as he can. It’s confusing. It’s infuriating. He wants more of it.

But Caleb says, “No, not particularly. In truth, I’d read most of their papers before coming here, so I was already familiar with the core concepts.” 

That’s… not quite what he had expected, but he can extrapolate all the same. Either he was mistaken in his assessment of Caleb’s earlier behavior, or Caleb was lying to him. Both were equally possible and equally cutting, as he disliked the implication of being incorrect as much as the idea of Caleb keeping that kind of information from him. Perhaps it’s a bit hypocritical, given the web of lies he himself has weaved and how they’re both ensnared in it now, but it’s true all the same.

“I see,” he muses. “Well, I’m sorry to have taken up your precious time,” he half teases as they turn a corner.

Caleb laughs lightly. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure somewhere out there in the aether, there’s a timeline where it was worthwhile.”

Essek goes to respond with another quip of his own, but his phone buzzes and he removes it from his pocket with a frown. 

> **(12:19pm) Verin Thelyss:** Mother wants to know how things are going in Uthodurn. Specifically whether you’ve managed to garner any interest in the Luxon.

It’s a short message, incredibly minor in the grand scheme of things, but even so the layers upon layers of implications it holds are not lost upon him. The fact that it’s his brother’s words with his mother’s voice behind it, for one. She either didn’t care to reach out to him herself, or, more likely, she was intentionally throwing him in Essek’s face as another of her games. This was a trap, obviously, he just had to figure out which kind.

Before he can take the time to begin pulling some strings, Caleb extends an arm to stop him walking forward, and he realizes that they’ve arrived at the edge of the street. “Sorry,” he breathes, stepping safely back up onto the sidewalk.

“Of course.” Caleb blinks and looks down at himself, and quickly draws his arm away. Something in Essek’s chest drops at the lack of contact, but he pushes it further down before he can consider it. “Something of dire importance, then?” Caleb asks.

Essek represses his next sigh and puts his phone away. His posturing puppet of a brother can wait. “Nothing that can’t wait.” Then, because he desperately wants to be distracted now, “The Vellum Steeple again, then? At least until later this evening?”

Caleb looks a bit surprised at how forward he’s being, but if he thinks anything more of it, he doesn’t comment. “I—certainly. If you are willing to teach, I am willing to learn.” 

“Well, I can certainly fulfill my end of that bargain,” Essek smiles conspiratorially, sneaking a glance up at his companion and, on a whim he wouldn’t normally take, extends his free arm. “Shall we?”

Caleb blinks a bit, and for a split second he thinks the gesture was too much, but then he returns Essek’s grin and links their elbows together, fumbling a bit with his bag and the papers still in his hands but succeeding nonetheless. “I suppose we shall.”

“Excellent.” Essek inclines his head. “Then, lead the way.”

The two walk arm in arm down the sidewalk to the nearest station for the cable cars that wind and spiral up the rest of the mountain and then down into the older city of Uthodurn below. In any other circumstance, Essek might have it in him to properly appreciate the aesthetics of the downtown area, but his mind is still occupied both by and with the presence beside him, so much so that before he knows it, they’re arriving at their stop and stepping out of the compartment. 

Their table from yesterday is currently unoccupied, and they make their way over to it in silence. With how impromptu this was, Essek doesn’t have any particular lessons prepared for today, but he has his mind and his materials and he’s worked with less in the past. His experience in instruction roles is limited—and is apparently unlikely to expand anytime soon—but it's enough for him to feel comfortable here, sitting across from Caleb and searching for some of his old notes on his laptop while Frumpkin nuzzles against it.

Caleb frowns. “Frumpkin,” he chides, “as I have told you, that is not polite.”

“He’s alright,” Essek says absently, letting Frumpkin sniff his hand before shoving his head into it. “As for you, did you have any more specific questions following our last session?”

“Um…” Caleb trails off, looking a bit embarrassed. “I—I did actually, just… Here.” He pulls that same small notebook out of his chest pocket and flips to the correct page. “I wrote a few more down that I thought of, but we can start wherever you want.” He hesitates for a moment, then another, then slowly slides the book over to Essek, watching like a hawk the entire time the book is out of his hands.

Essek notes the change of demeanor but says nothing of it, choosing to focus on the paper in front of him. The dozen or so questions Caleb has written down can be answered fairly easily; most are points of clarification, but there are a few that he can already see how he can use to expand upon concepts and bring new ones in. It comes together so easily, so naturally, and he feels a pang that he doesn’t get to spend more time doing this.

“I see,” he says softly, almost a whisper. “Well then—” he slides the notebook back over to Caleb— “let us begin.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me a bit and it's a bit shorter than the others BUT it's at a place where I feel good about posting it. 
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter include brief, implied family drama/tension, but that's all. Tags will be updated.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

“So when the function collapses, you should get this.”

“Ah, I see, I see… just, could you maybe show me one more time, perhaps?”

“Of course.” Essek turns to a fresh sheet of paper in his notebook and clicks his pen, carefully inscribing the necessary formulas they’re working with. “So, consider a particle in a box—”

His phone buzzes, insistently, in his chest pocket, and Essek almost suppresses an exasperated sigh as the sound shatters the reverie they’d both found themselves in. He reluctantly leans away from Caleb and takes it out to silence it, an apology already half out of his mouth that Caleb is already waving away. Still, he’s not about to answer his phone in the  _ library _ , so he turns it completely off for now.

“Sorry about that,” he mutters as he puts the phone away. He doesn’t have to check to know it was Verin, doubtlessly hoping to nag him on behalf of their mother given that he hadn’t responded to his message yet. The last thing he wants is to have to come up with an answer, let alone reach out to actually give it.

“It’s perfectly okay. You seem like a busy man, I’m sure you have plenty to occupy your time with besides teaching me introductory coursework.” Caleb laughs a bit, softly, and rubs the back of his neck.

Essek’s lips turn up a bit at the edges, equal parts bewildered and bemused at Caleb’s self deprecation. “You may be pleased to know that you’re already well beyond what any student of this would learn in their first few years. It took me weeks to fully comprehend what you’ve managed to do in days. I think you’re capable of more than you give yourself credit for, Caleb.”

Caleb stares at him for a few seconds and Essek’s heart freezes in his chest. He’s overstepped—this is meant to be a learning session between a teacher and a student, nothing more, and he of all people should know better. Friends though they were, the last thing he wanted was to— 

“Thank you,” Caleb breathes, with a small, genuine smile on his face that sends relief cascading through Essek’s body. “That means a lot, truly, coming from you.” He clears his throat. “Well, it is three fifty-seven, so we should probably get going if we want to be on time.” He stands and Essek follows, Frumpkin stretching languidly and trotting forth from beneath the table where he had been curled comfortably at their feet to join them. 

Essek takes his cane with one hand and lifts his bag with the other, falling in step next to Caleb as they depart. His eyes scan the bookshelves as they meander through them, looking reflexively for a bit of light reading that might be interesting. He stops at a title that seems out of place for the section they’re in, eyes narrowing curiously at the neat script that seems to drip down the book’s spine.

“‘The Trials and Tribulations of Sir Taryon Darrington,’” he reads aloud before he can think better of it.

Caleb looks up and follows his eyes. “Oh. I believe my friend Jester has read that one. She says it’s very good. A tad outlandish, perhaps, but all stories are.”

“Hm. Indeed,” Essek says as they keep walking. “Remind me, Jester is…?”

“Ah, right.” Caleb adjusts his scarf. “Well, she does many things, but right now she’s planning a convention for—I’m not quite sure, actually. Some sort of Internet thing she made? I believe it’s a program of some kind, though every time she explains what it does I seem to end up more confused. She calls it The Traveler, and she swears it’s ‘alive’, but I’ve yet to see any proof of genuine artificial intelligence, so...” He shrugs. 

Essek laughs a bit. Not mockingly, but out of amusement towards the eclectic group of people his companion seems to be so fond of. “Well, if a sentient computer virus takes over the world, at least I’ll know who to blame.”

Caleb laughs again.  _ “Ja,  _ I would not put it past her to pull that off. She’s tricky like that.”

They end up standing on the street corner as they await the cable car. It’s warmer here, below the sprawling surfaces of the Flotket Alps, but shielding from the elements is a complicated task and Essek’s breath still clouds in front of him if he catches the light from the nearby streetlamp just right. He shivers a bit and plunges his hands into his coat pocket.

“Are you cold?” Caleb asks with a glance at him. “I—sorry, that’s a ridiculous question.”

“No such thing,” Essek breathes. “But, to answer it, yes,” he says playfully, carefully testing the waters to return to their banter from before, which he strangely misses. 

Caleb frowns a bit. Then, before Essek can protest, he unravels his scarf from his own neck and hands it over. “Here, take this.”

Essek blinks, taken aback at the offer. “I—thank you, but I couldn’t possibly just—”

“It’s fine,” Caleb interrupts. “Really. Here, just…” He ties it in a neat loop and tucks it into Essek’s coat. “Besides,” he adds, leaning down to scoop up Frumpkin and set him on his shoulders. “I have a cat to keep me warm anyway.” 

He doesn’t mean to stare, he really doesn’t, but between this act of kindness he’s just been shown and the subsequent endearing sight of Caleb trying to get Frumpkin to settle down, he’s utterly spellbound. Normally he’d be quick to chafe against the implication that he needs help of any kind, but he’s unexpectedly and uncharacteristically touched that someone would be willing to offer it, not to mention surprised. The tally in his mind starts going up; this will be another favor he’ll have to keep track of. 

“Thank you,” he says, quieter than he means to, and pulls the scarf up to cover the pointed tips of his ears. “This—I appreciate this, truly. I promise I’ll find some way to return the favor.”

“Hm. Unfettered access to your institution’s library, perhaps?” Caleb grins mischievously, but then his expression softens, and with it, Essek’s heart. “But, in all seriousness, it’s fine. We  _ are _ friends,  _ ja?” _

Essek doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he nods instead and manages an affirmative noise of some kind. By some small miracle, the car arrives and he’s spared any further indignity in front of his—in front of Caleb for the time being as they step inside. He sits by one of the windows and looks resolutely out of it for most of the ride, even as Caleb sits next to him with Frumpkin in his lap and the cat in question nuzzles his hand a few times in search of scratches he can’t help but give.

His mind wanders once again as the car slowly meanders its way up towards their destination, drifting from his conversation with Caleb over breakfast, to his behavior during the panel, to the careful, diligent questions he’d had at the library, his neat style of note taking, how quickly he was able to learn and process and understand the information Essek was telling him, how eager and curious he always was and genuinely wanting to learn more, how his whole face lit up when he realized he’d answered a problem or found a solution— 

He shakes himself a bit, disturbing Frumpkin from his spot on his thigh and earning a reproachful look from him. The last thing he needed right now was to be distracted by—whatever that was. Still  _ is _ , he thinks, face burning as he keeps it turned towards the glass, seeing nothing of the snowy landscape that passes him by. Think about something else. Think about  _ something else. _

Forcing his mind to shift away from Caleb and how close he was currently sitting, Essek reluctantly considers the familial matter that had been dumped in his lap. How much of Verin reaching out to him was to warn him and spare him from the potential incoming wrath of their mother, and how much of it was her pulling the strings to begin with? Essek had no way of knowing short of actually opening a line of communication with him, which he was loath to do at this precise moment. Still, if experience was any teacher, the problem would only compound itself the longer he waited. Best nip this in the bud.

So, he steps out of the tram as they reach their stop, pauses to wait for Caleb to join him, and say, “Would you mind saving me a seat? I need to make a quick phone call.”

Caleb nods. “Of course, take your time. I’ll be waiting for you.” He smiles and turns to leave, unaware of the piece of Essek’s heart that goes with him.

His body feels heavy, probably from the dread pooling in his stomach combined with the usual ache in his bones, but he finds a more secluded bench away from the main entrance of the building and sheltered from the snow, and sits down to call his brother. The line rings, one, two, three times before Verin puts him out of his misery and answers him.

_ “Essek! I’d half-thought you’d frozen to death up there. How are you doing? How’s Uthodurn?” _

“I’m doing well,” he says politely in Undercommon, scanning the disparate crowd of people making their way inside. “And the city is lovely, thank you for asking. I’d be able to enjoy it a lot more without our mother apparently breathing down my neck.” 

Verin chuckles at his bitter segue into the true reason for his calling.  _ “Well, you know how she is. She means well, you know that.” _

Essek bites his tongue. His brother has this obnoxious habit of assuming the best in people and taking them at their word. It’s one he almost wishes he could envy. “Of course, why else would she have  _ you _ contact me instead of doing it herself, if not to make it clear how much she  _ cares?” _

There’s a crackling, static sound as Verin  _ huffs _ good-naturedly at the ice in his tone.  _ “I’d have hoped you would realize I was trying to give you a heads-up more than anything. But, for my sake, since she’s currently decided to visit me, I’d appreciate an answer if you have one.” _

Essek frowns. “Why is she visiting you?” 

Their mother was hesitant to leave Rosohna if she could avoid it, with her position on the council and advising the Bright Queen and, since she’d used the family money to fund it, managing the new weapons research and development wing at the Marble Tomes. He couldn’t imagine that Professor Waccoh herself cared one way or another who paid her for her work or how that work was ultimately used, but it did mean that he occasionally had to tread lightly through the halls, lest she corner him to ask him just  _ how _ relevant his work was to the Luxon and the spread of its faith and the reputation of their glorious country.

Verin is quiet for a few seconds.  _ “You really don’t remember?” _

He racks his brain, combing through birthdays and holidays, hoping to find the right one that would provide him with an explanation, but comes up empty. “No,” he sighs, now irritated, “no, I don’t. Would you care to enlighten me?”

It’s Verin’s turn to sigh, and he does. It’s an exasperated, disappointed, drawn out sound that he knows means he’s made a sleight that won’t soon be forgiven.  _ “It’s the anniversary, Essek. Of father?” _

Essek’s blood freezes in his veins as that entire day plays through his head again. The screaming, the tears in his eyes, the glass shattering, the slam of a door behind him as he left the house, the ring of his phone in his pocket later that night when they received the news. It had been one of the worst of his life, as had the following ones when he’d had to deal with the fallout. And it had come back around again, as it did every year and would well into the future.

“Oh. Right.”

_ “Yeah.”  _ Verin sighs again.  _ “Given the circumstances, it’s actually probably better you’re away. For you, that is.” _

“I…” Essek clears his throat. “Yes, I’d agree. Anyway, you can tell mother that a handful of days in a foreign city is hardly enough time to spread the word of a god that its denizens likely know nothing about, but I’ll do my best.”

_ “Yes, I’m sure she’ll take that well. You know as well as I do how much she loves your quips.” _

“Well, if you’re worried, then give it the usual polishing if you need to,” he says impatiently. He’s being rude, and unfair, and he knows that on some level, but it’s cold and he’s running late by now and he doesn’t have it in him to spare his brother’s feelings for the sake of appeasing his mother.

_ “Don’t I always?” _ Verin pauses again.  _ “Well, goodbye, Essek. Call me when you get back home, we can catch up.” _

“Very well. Goodbye.” 

He hangs up the phone and stands slowly, mindful of the creak in his knees, and makes his way inside. The wave of attendants has slowed to a trickle at this point, and he follows the flow towards the auditorium. He pauses for a moment when he enters, searching for the telltale red hair, scarf, and brown overcoat. But Caleb spots him first and waves him over, and it would have been easier for Essek to resist the pull of a gravity well than to keep himself from going.

“I haven’t missed anything, have I?” He asks as he sits down, collapsing his cane and folding it neatly in his lap.

_ “Nein,  _ it hasn’t started yet,” Caleb tells him. “Everything okay?”

Essek panics for a split second, wondering if Caleb was onto him after all and if he’s completely misread everything up until this point, before realizing that he’s probably just curious what kept him. “Oh, everything’s fine,” he says. It’s not a  _ lie _ exactly, but it’s definitely a… distillation of the truth. “Just… a family matter, that’s all.”

“Ah, I understand.” Caleb pets Frumpkin a bit more as he turns to face the front, and Essek wonders if he’s hit a nerve of some kind. 

Then there’s the sound of footsteps from behind the small stage, and the speaker he suddenly remembers they’re supposed to be watching makes their way forward, a computer under one arm as they stand at the podium. He knows on some level that he should really be taking notes even as the introductions start, but this day has brought him nothing but trouble and he doesn’t have a whole lot of energy left to contend with, so his pens and papers stay in the bag at his feet. 

He’s able to listen at first, and begins filling in the holes that he can see coming, but before he even realizes it he’s started to drift off. The slow drone of the sounds around him and the steady glow from the projector lull him into some sort of trance, as does the presence of a very warm…  _ friend _ beside him. He’s faintly aware of his head falling in the direction of Caleb’s shoulder, and of a mistake in one of the figures on the presentation, and then he’s lost to unconsciousness.

When he wakes, it’s to the gentle shaking of his shoulder and the sound of chatter around him, as people are in the process of standing up to leave. Caleb is looking down at him, smiling a bit sheepishly.

“Apologies,” he says quietly, “but I didn’t think you’d want me to leave you here.”

Essek blinks and quickly sits up straight, still a bit disoriented and drowsy. He resists the urge to yawn, and instead discretely checks the time on his phone. He shouldn’t be surprised to realize he slept through the entire hour and a half, but he still is, and the fact is mortifying as it sinks in that he actually  _ fell asleep _ in the middle of a lecture.

“I—I’m sorry, I have no idea what happened—”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Caleb cuts him off. “It’s been a long day, after all.” 

“Still,” he protests as he stands up, “it’s extremely unprofessional.” And, not to mention, the last thing he wanted was to make Caleb feel uncomfortable. He could imagine that having Essek  _ fall asleep _ on him didn’t do that any favors. 

“Well, I think we’re far enough back that no one saw you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

That’s a relief, at least, but it’s still incredibly humiliating. He doesn’t even want to think about what might have happened if… if one of his  _ associates _ had seen him, and what they might have done. Ruined his reputation, most likely. It’s what he would do. 

“That’s good to know,” he mutters. “Anyway, I do apologize. That was hardly my intention.”

“There is no need to apologize, truly.” Caleb stands and lifts Frumpkin in his usual spot up around his neck. “I took notes, if you’d like a copy. Or, I have a very good memory, if you’d prefer that I simply repeat the entire thing back to you.”

Essek laughs a bit at that, because he doesn’t see how he can’t. “The notes will be fine, though I appreciate the offer. I won’t trouble you any further.” The ocean of embarrassment he’d been drowning in is receding somewhat, no longer threatening to drag him down into its depths. 

“We’ve been sharing a bed in a hotel room for the past two days now. Truly, it didn’t bother me,” Caleb says with what Essek hopes on some level is earnest. 

And, he’s forced to admit to himself that Caleb  _ is _ right. Practically speaking, he hasn’t overstepped any boundaries that haven’t already been established with the situation they’re in. That knowledge makes it a bit easier to bear, if only because it means that Caleb is genuinely fine with it.

“I… do suppose that’s true,” he sighs as they step through the doors and out into the cold evening air. By now, the sun is mostly behind the mountains, and the sky above them is an array of red and purple with a scattering of stars peaking through the clouds. It is rather beautiful, even Essek can tell that much, and a sneaking glance at Caleb as he looks up is enough to confirm that he feels the same way.

“Do you want to go to dinner? Properly, I mean. I’ll admit the hotel menu doesn’t sound especially appealing this evening.” Caleb chuckles a bit and rubs the back of his neck, causing Frumpkin to bristle a bit from where he’s hanging.

“I—certainly, I would agree to that,” Essek manages, more than a bit taken aback by the offer. He hadn’t even been planning on having dinner this evening at all, let alone in Caleb’s company, but he’s more than happy to adapt. “Do you have somewhere in mind, or…?”

Caleb seems to pale a bit. “I, uh… perhaps I should have thought of that before asking. But, um, that Marquesian place from yesterday, if you’re amenable to that?” 

Essek nods. It’s as good a place as any, as far as he’s concerned. “I certainly can be.”

Caleb smiles and, in a mirror from earlier that day, extends an arm to Essek. “Then I can lead the way.”

Essek laughs a bit as he takes it, the warmth radiating deep into his skin, and they set off hand in hand towards their destination. His embarrassment is mostly gone by now, though it’s sure to creep back up on him later tonight when he’s trying to get a moment’s sleep. But now, strolling through the city with Caleb, nothing really seems so bad anymore.

“Oh, one thing you should know, Beauregard is arriving tomorrow, so I’ll probably wake up early to meet her outside. I’ve already made arrangements to accompany her to set everything up, so we shouldn’t disturb you or anything like that,” Caleb says once they’ve sat down.

Essek shrugs as he begins leafing through the menu, not really seeing any of the dishes it offers. “I’ll probably be awake anyway. She’s more than welcome to join us for breakfast if she wishes. I’d enjoy the chance to meet her.” And, if he does, he can maybe get a better idea of just how much she knows, and how close she is to the situation.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to trouble you or anything like that. And she can be a bit… much.”

“Based on what you’ve told me of her so far, I’m sure that’s an understatement.” Essek smiles. “But, in all honesty, I’m sure the two of you don’t want to wander around the city all day on my account. I’d be happy to have her join us.”

Caleb nods, earning a tail flick from Frumpkin as he’s jostled. “Well, thank you, I appreciate it. And I’m sure she will too, come tomorrow.”

“Indeed.” He smiles again. He’s sure that tomorrow will be fraught with hardship in its own right, but for now it’s enough that he can sit and enjoy this evening in the company of a friend, and that’s exactly what he plans to do. 

**Author's Note:**

> Master List of ALL the weird astrophysics words I use here:
> 
> Cepheid variables: a type of star that 'pulses' with light at very regular intervals. Because of this, they're often used to measure distances, kind of like a ruler or yardstick.
> 
> Stellar magnitude: an "objective" (it's not objective or even all that good can you tell I'm salty?) system of measuring how bright a star is. There's a ton of history to this IRL but it's not really relevant for understanding here.
> 
> Gravitational waves: these are weird, but you can think of them as "ripples" in spacetime that move at the speed of light, typically caused by some fuckery with, you guessed it, gravity.
> 
> Intermediate Mass Black Holes (IMBHs): these are even WEIRDER, and for the record these were actually discovered IRL fairly recently (hence how I incorporated them here LOL), but on a surface level they're just black holes between 100 to like 10,000 times the mass of the Sun. They do have some fucked up implications for the structure of our universe as a whole, but I won't get into that.
> 
> Cosmic Microwave Background (Radiation)/CMB: Okay, this is like... the 'echo' left over from around the time of the Big Bang, or as far back in time towards the Big Bang that we can see with current telescopes. It's basically the leftover light from that time that we can still see.
> 
> Wormholes: alright, Interstellar did everyone dirty with that depiction. Most 'real life' wormholes are gonna be microscopic. Like, sub-microscopic. Like, smaller than the spaces between atoms. But they're pretty much the typical 'bridge' across two sections of spacetime that most sci-fi stuff depicts them as, just more complicated.
> 
> Active galactic nuclei: Alright, so, most galaxies have what's called a supermassive black hole at their center. When this black hole is 'eating', to put it simply, it will light up and get super bright. When this happens, the galaxy in question is considered an 'active' galaxy, and the center is called an 'active galactic nucleus'. These are super cool and super powerful and one of the wildest things that happens in nature, in my opinion.
> 
> Quasars: You can think of this as just a super SUPER powerful Active Galactic Nucleus, basically a really big release of electromagnetic energy. We typically see these happen in galaxies that are very far away from Earth, which therefore implies that most of them happened a very long time ago.
> 
> Field equations: So IRL these are Einstein's Field Equations, but I realized that Albert Einstein does not exist in Exandria, so I'm working with what I have. These basically explain general relativity and how spacetime 'curves' with mass. Super geometrical and kind of abstract, so I won't get too deep into it.
> 
> 'Halas' Constant: Okay, again, our in-world equivalent is the Hubble Constant, but again, Edwin Hubble doesn't exist in fantasy magic land. This is basically a term that describes how quickly the universe is expanding, and because the expansion of the universe is actually accelerating, it makes it weird and there's not a very good interpretation of it.
> 
> Time dilation: There's this thing that happens when you move super duper DUPER fast, like, close-to-the-speed-of-light fast, where time will actually slow down around you in response to your relative, increased velocity. This does relate to gravity because all gravity really is, is an accelerated frame of reference, but I can't really explain that super well without getting into some really heavy stuff so just trust me.
> 
> M-theory: This basically attempts to unify all the different versions of string theory that are out there, and string theory is basically the idea that all matter (and energy) arises from the vibrating of 'strings' at different frequencies. But due to some other stuff, this also implies that our universe isn't actually 3-D, but has more dimensions that are sort of 'curled up' in on themselves. How many dimensions there actually are is still up for debate to most people.


End file.
